On the Banks of the Brandywine
by MBradford
Summary: Frodo finds a letter in a book that reveals something about his past and Merry tells Sam some tales of Frodo's life at Brandy Hall. Complete.
1. Between the Pages

On the Banks of the Brandywine  
  
-Mbradford  
  
Rating - PG 13  
  
Warnings - Violence and mild cursing in some chapters, angst, cruelty to hobbits. Anti - warnings - A little bit of love and laughter here and there.  
  
Summary: Frodo finds a letter in an old book that speaks of what might have been, and memories of his youth at Brandy Hall are brought to light, including a terrifying episode in Bree just before his adoption by Bilbo. Begins pre-quest, about 1 year after Bilbo leaves the Shire.  
  
Author's note: I decided upon movie verse because the ages of the hobbits seem to be a little closer than in the book. For this plot, it worked better to have Merry being a little closer to Frodo's age during the Brandy Hall years.  
  
If you like Frodo angst I recommend the following -  
  
"Treasures" by Bellamonte. This is an excellent work in progress, filled with action, emotion, and loads of angst!  
  
"Rites of Passage" by Willow - Wode. Marvelously written, with wonderful use of character relationships. A look at Frodo's life at Brandy Hall that is not to be missed.  
  
"Nasty Hobbitses" by Iorhael is filled with plot twists that will keep you busy wondering what's next.  
  
"Nigh on Septermber" is a story by Aratlithel, who betaed this for me. Frodo gets his fair shot at Ted Sandyman. I wrote the bar fight, which was lots of fun to do. Also recommend "Son of Drogo" by this author.  
  
"Ring Around the Merry" by Aelfgifu. Now there's a hobbit with an attitude! Will Frodo, Sam and Pippin survive? And you thought Sauron was a nasty customer!  
  
Disclaimer - I don't own the concepts of Middle Earth or Hobbits. The Tolkien Estate does. Nobody is paying me to do this, it's just for fun.  
  
Chapter 1 - Between the Pages  
  
The cold November wind howled its discontent outside, but within the protective confines of Bag End, all was warmth and cheer. Sam stirred the coals at the hearth and added another log to the fire, while Frodo prepared spiced apple cider in the kitchen. Merry had arrived earlier in the day on a visit from Brandy Hall, and he was busily pulling old, dusty books from the packs his pony had borne stoically all the way from Buckland.  
  
Merry had somehow gotten himself saddled with the duty of helping Esmeralda and Saradoc with the cleaning of the library at Brandy Hall, and in the process a number of old tomes had been set aside for transport to Bag End. Some of the books hadn't been opened in years, as no one at the Hall seemed to take an interest in their subject matter. Since Frodo had always been a willing reader of books on many subjects, it was suggested that some of the old volumes be gifted to him, for the old adage was true - one hobbit's mathom was another's treasure.  
  
Merry stacked the books upon the table, wrinkling his nose as he did. "Musty, dusty and all yours, Frodo, if you'll have them, that is," he said as Frodo emerged from the kitchen. "I'm sorry I didn't take more time to dust them before bringing them here," he said rather ruefully, as he looked at the fine layer of particles already beginning to collect on the tabletop.  
  
"Merry, a little dust on the table is a small price to pay for the enjoyment of seeing my family," Frodo chided his cousin gently. "And these books are wonderful! Are you sure Brandy Hall can spare them?" Frodo ran his fingers lightly over the leather binding of the topmost book on the stack, smiling as he thought of the many hours he could while away with them during the coming winter.  
  
"I'm positive," Merry said with a wry grin. "That library is so overloaded, it's a wonder the shelves don't break from the weight of all that's piled on them." He continued to pull books from a knapsack, stacking them upon the floor when the pile on the table began to look a little unstable. "Well, that's the last of them," he announced with a flourish as he placed the final book on the stack.  
  
"It's a mercy your pony didn't throw you to pay you back for making him carry such a load!" Frodo said as he tried to reckon the weight of the books.  
  
"He's a very sturdy pony, Frodo," Merry retorted, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Merry, but he'd have to be," Sam said as he came to stand beside Frodo, and stared at the many volumes Merry had brought with him. There were more books piled on the floor and table than were present in all of Number Three Bagshot Row, he was certain.  
  
"Cider's getting cold," Frodo prompted as he reluctantly turned his attention from the treasures before him. There would be plenty of time for a thorough inspection of all of them. He must remember to send a note of thanks with Merry upon his cousin's return to Buckland.  
  
Sam sipped his cider and a look of surprise crossed his face. Merry's eyes held an amused gleam as he recognized the taste of an old family recipe.  
  
"I see you've made a batch of the other variety," he said with a grin. Seeing Sam's curious expression, he elaborated further. "This is the cider the adults would pass around after sending all the young ones off to bed," he said with a chuckle. "A little more here to warm the chill from your bones than a bit of cinnamon, you might say."  
  
"Precisely," Frodo said, saluting his guests with his mug. "Just the thing for a chilly autumn evening, I think."  
  
"It's a fine brew, Mr. Frodo, no mistake," Sam added taking another swallow.  
  
Frodo couldn't help himself. His gaze wandered once again to the stack of books on the table. Curiosity was a well - noted character trait among the Baggins family, and Frodo possessed it in as great abundance as any who had borne the surname.  
  
Merry laughed out loud, catching Frodo's glance with his quick eyes. "Go ahead, Frodo. What are you waiting for?" He gave his cousin a gentle shove toward the stacks of books. "Sam and I can both tell it's killing you not to have a look."  
  
Frodo blushed a little at having been caught out so easily. "But I have guests to entertain," he said teasingly. "Who wants to sit around watching a Baggins sort a book pile?"  
  
"As long as you have more of this cider, I think I could find some entertainment in the activity," Merry teased back.  
  
Sam settled back to watch, feeling glad to see Frodo so happy. Bilbo's absence this past year had been a little hard for his master at times, and while Frodo wouldn't speak openly of his melancholy, Sam could see it in the slump of his shoulders and the downward direction of his gaze when he thought no one was watching.  
  
Frodo brushed the dust from the topmost book on the table, taking a drink from his mug as he read the title embossed on the leather cover. "A History of the Four Farthings," he read aloud. "Hmmm, let's see." He picked up the next volume. "This one is a fairy tale, it seems."  
  
The next one was a history of Buckland and the surrounding regions titled 'On the Banks of the Brandywine.' Merry coughed dramatically as Frodo blew a small cloud of dust from the cover. The look on Frodo's face as he opened the book caused Merry to pause, his expression sobering slightly.  
  
When Frodo didn't say anything, Merry and Sam moved to stand on either side of him to see what held him so rapt. Printed in neat, simple handwriting on the inside page was a name and a date - Drogo Baggins, 1370.  
  
"This was my father's book," Frodo said quietly. "It must have ended up in the library at Brandy Hall after - " he stopped short of completing the sentence and sipped his cider instead.  
  
"1370," Merry noted the date. "You would have been two years old, Frodo." Merry peered over Frodo's shoulder, his own curiosity piqued by the discovery. "I'm surprised that you never came across this while you were at Brandy Hall. You spent a lot of time in the library, as I remember."  
  
"That library is big, Merry," Frodo responded, turning the book over in his hands. "Even in the hours I spent there, I never managed to poke into all the corners and alcoves." As Frodo carefully brushed more dust from the cover, something fell from between the pages, catching Sam's eye as it fluttered to the floor.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, you dropped this," Sam said as he handed the item to Frodo. It was an envelope and the seal was as yet unbroken. Tension rose as they all stared mutely at the age - yellowed paper and the wax seal bearing an ornate letter "B".  
  
"Open it, Frodo," Merry urged. "Let's see what's inside!"  
  
"Should we, Merry? Perhaps it's something not meant for our eyes," Frodo said apprehensively. Even so, the book had been his father's, and by right should have passed to him, had it not been overlooked amidst the multitude of volumes in the Hall's library.  
  
"These books are yours now, Frodo," Merry told him. "This one would have been yours long ago, had anyone been aware of its presence in the Hall library. Anything found between the pages is yours now as well, so there's no harm in having a look."  
  
Frodo couldn't argue against Merry's logic. He broke the seal carefully, almost reverently, and drew out a single sheet of vellum, yellowed with age and folded once in the center. He opened it carefully so as not to damage it, and gasped involuntarily at the contents.  
  
Clearly written in the corner was another date, made more specific by noting the day and month, as well as the year - 22 Halimath, 1379. "Your birthday, Frodo," Merry observed. Frodo merely nodded, beginning to scan the rest of the writing on the page. His eyes widened. It was a letter!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
22 Halimath, 1379  
  
Dearest Rory,  
  
The contents of this missive, though less than pleasing to consider, are of great importance to me and to your dear sister, my beloved wife. Careful consideration has been given to the subject I reluctantly broach here, and it is my hope that you will give it your most serious attention as well.  
  
It is never a pleasant thing to contemplate one's own eventual demise, but I think you will agree it must be done at some point in one's existence, particularly where the well - being of children may be involved. I shall not trouble you by dancing about the subject, but shall come to the point in direct manner.  
  
Frodo is eleven years old today, and Prim and I have discussed at length what provisions we should like made for him, should we be taken untimely from him in his youth. He is growing into a fine lad, and should something untoward occur, we would wish him to be cared for in the best of all possible environments.  
  
While Brandy Hall is the ancestral home of his mother, I think you will agree that it is a rather large and busy place for a lad like Frodo. Our young lad is of a quiet and sensitive nature, and while Prim and I mean no offense, we believe the Hall would be somewhat overwhelming for him, should he find himself there on a permanent basis.  
  
We have yet to raise the matter with Cousin Bilbo in Hobbiton, but if he were willing, we would choose him as Frodo's guardian in the event of our passing before he is of age. Bilbo has a kind heart and he and Frodo were remarkably taken with each other upon their first meeting. It was quite extraordinary, how comfortable they seemed in each other's presence.  
  
Hobbiton is a quieter environment than Brandy Hall, and much more suited to Frodo's nature and sensibilities, in our opinion. Should Bilbo be willing, Bag End would be our first choice as a place for Frodo to grow, learn and mature into the gentlehobbit we know he will be one day.  
  
It is our hope that you will find no offense in this request, as it is far from our intent to slight you and Menegilda in any fashion. Our only concern is for Frodo, and for his happiness and well - being.  
  
It would please us greatly if you would take this matter into consideration, as it weighs upon our minds at this time. We will write and ask Bilbo for his consent to serve as Frodo's guardian once you and I have had time to discuss the subject in person, as is only fitting and proper.  
  
Respectfully Yours,  
  
Drogo Baggins  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
As emotions without number or name surged through him, Frodo swayed and all the color drained from his face. Sam moved quickly to steady him as he nearly fell.  
  
"Frodo!" Merry exclaimed as he moved to his cousin's opposite side to lend his support. Merry looked up at Sam and gestured toward the sofa, and they guided Frodo to it quickly.  
  
"Merry," Frodo gasped as tears stood in his eyes, "did you see - did you see what - " Frodo broke off as his throat all but closed of its own accord. After all this time, to find this! After all the lost, lonely years he had spent at Brandy Hall, haunting the library that had been among his favorite places of refuge! His father's words swam before his eyes, and a sob rose in his throat as he realized that he, Sam and Merry were the only ones to have read them save their author.  
  
Why hadn't the letter been sent? Any number of things could have intervened and caused it to lie forgotten inside the book. Now it came falling out into the light, too late to prevent the pain of times gone by.  
  
Frodo shook uncontrollably and clutched at Sam's arm, fighting a losing battle against the wave of shock and disbelief that was crashing over him. Sam embraced him soothingly while Merry knelt beside him, placing a supportive hand gently upon his shoulder.  
  
Sam and Merry remained silent. Of what use were words at a time like this? The contents of the letter had been almost like a physical blow even to them, so it was no wonder Frodo had reacted so intensely. Sam continued to hold Frodo as he sobbed brokenly. Merry rose and went into the kitchen to find something to calm and soothe his agitated cousin. Hard cider wouldn't do for this. He returned in a few minutes with a steaming cup of herbal tea.  
  
The wracking sobs were giving way to a softer flow of tears as Frodo leaned against Sam for support. Merry knelt by the sofa at his side again and spoke softly. "Frodo?" Merry reached out a hand and laid it carefully over his cousin's. "Please try to drink some tea. It will help, I promise," he said, holding out the cup.  
  
Frodo raised his head in acknowledgement and took several deep, shaky breaths. He tried to take the cup from Merry's hand, but his own hands were still shaking. Sam took the cup instead and held it while Frodo took several swallows.  
  
"I'm - I'm sorry," Frodo began. "It's just that I never dreamed - " It was overwhelming to imagine how different his life might have been, had his Uncle Rorimac and Aunt Menegilda received that letter. Provided, of course, that Bilbo would have agreed to such a plan at the time, he reminded himself.  
  
"None of us did, Frodo," Merry said quietly. "It must have seemed the best thing to do at the time, to have you come to Brandy Hall."  
  
Merry knew life at the Hall hadn't been easy for Frodo. As far back as Merry could remember, Frodo had kept largely to himself when he was able, opening up to very few. Merry, though younger than Frodo, had been among the privileged few who could draw the quiet lad out of his self - imposed solitude. Or was it really by choice that Frodo had been alone so often?  
  
Memories of adults whispering behind their hands, their eyes following the orphaned youngster came easily to Merry's mind. He recalled the other children either avoiding Frodo as if his presence went hand in hand with tragedy or ill luck, or taunting him with cruel disregard for the invisible scars their words left behind. There were also times when things went well beyond taunting. To think his cousin might have been spared such pain was a bitter thing indeed.  
  
"We're here, Mr. Frodo," Sam said simply. He knew the story of how Frodo lost his parents at the young age of twelve, and about some of the events that followed in the years afterward. Sam had never experienced anything of the sort, being surrounded by his own large, loving family. Merry had been there for Frodo at Brandy Hall and had seen the effects of the events first - hand, but he couldn't feel Frodo's pain, loneliness and fear in his stead.  
  
Sam raised the cup for Frodo again, and he finished off the contents wearily. Whether it was emotional exhaustion or something in the mix of herbs in the tea, he felt his eyes starting to droop and the blessed oblivion of sleep beckoned to him. Sam eased him back against the sofa cushions and covered him with a quilt while Merry placed another log on the fire.  
  
When Frodo had fallen asleep, Merry and Sam settled themselves as comfortably as possible in chairs nearby, each one running the events of the last hour through his mind. Worry was evident in Sam's features as he stared absently into the fire. That letter had obviously been a terrible shock to Frodo, and Sam wished it had never been placed between the pages of the book.  
  
Merry spoke as he read Sam's troubled expression. "He'll be all right, Sam. It's hard for him, that's all." Merry rose from his chair and raked his fingers through his tangle of blonde curls. "I used the medicinal tea he keeps for helping with headaches and such. It will help him sleep while the shock wears off."  
  
"Was it really so bad for him?" Sam asked quietly. "Livin' at Brandy Hall, I mean?" Sam knew Frodo had felt the loss of his parents keenly and the pain of the memory would likely never disappear entirely. Frodo had told him but few stories of his youth in Buckland, as if it too were a subject too sore to delve into.  
  
"It wasn't always easy, that's certain," Merry responded quietly, turning his gaze back to where Frodo lay sleeping. Merry was glad that he and Sam had been present when the letter came to light. He hated to think of Frodo reading those words and reeling from the impact without the support of those who loved him.  
  
Merry kept his voice low as he continued. "Brandy Hall isn't exactly the kind of place that affords a lot of privacy, Sam. You know how quiet Frodo is by nature, and he was quieter still after his parents' passing." Merry stirred the fire again, remembering. "The adults stared because they were more curious than courteous, and the children stared because they were children. Frodo had few places to go where he could get away from all of them and just be alone when he wanted to."  
  
Sam nodded. "I know Mr. Frodo likes to be alone sometimes. He'll go for long walks in the countryside, or sit in his study for hours by himself." If Frodo had been anything like that as a child, Sam could see why it would have been difficult for him to suddenly land in the middle of a crowd like the one at Brandy Hall, and under such tragic circumstances.  
  
"He had a hard time with a few of the bigger lads picking on him," Merry recalled. "A little of that is normal, but there was more than a little, and Frodo's uniqueness seemed to draw their attention somehow." Merry looked down at the floor for a moment and traced a pattern on the throw rug with his big toe. "He was the best friend I had there, and I missed him when he left."  
  
Merry's eyes took on a faraway look as he spoke. Sam listened attentively as Merry began to tell him of a time years ago, on the banks of the Brandywine.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	2. River Rats

Hello, friends! Thanks for stopping by! Sorry it took so long to update, but I couldn't get onto the site for a while!  
  
Aratlithiel - If Merry is your 2nd favorite hobbit - and I take it Frodo is your first - this fic is for you! Thanks again for spotting my typos and providing little ideas when my brain gets stuck!  
  
Endymion - I wish I could claim invention of the term "mathom", but sadly, I can't. Professor Tolkien describes a mathom as a thing for which you have no immediate or logical use, but can't really bear to throw away either. My home is crowded with them. How about yours?  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - And what is Merry telling Sam about? Tales by the fireside as we continue. Frodo was rather shocked indeed, not only that the book belonged to his father, but to discover that his youth might have been entirely different for what was hidden inside!  
  
QTPie - 2488 - Exciting? Perhaps. Many twists and turns on the road ahead! Glad you're enjoying it so far.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Now what memories could that letter have stirred up? Stay tuned.  
  
Shirebound - Thanks for your great review! It was a good thing Frodo had company when he read that letter. In chapters to come, we'll see what might not have happened if the letter had been sent!  
  
Iorhael - Yes, it must have been very hard for Frodo to be orphaned and overlooked among so many relatives at that time in his life. Especially with some of the things that are going on with regard to two certain older lads who think Frodo makes a good target. Read on!  
  
Map - Welcome back! I haven't read the story you recommended, but I will look for it! Now, back to Frodo!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 2 - River Rats  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland 1382~*~  
  
Frodo stumbled backwards despite his best attempts to keep his feet, as a larger, older lad planted both hands on his narrow chest and shoved him. The only thing that saved him from falling was the presence of yet another young hobbit behind him, who grabbed him and shoved him forward again.  
  
"Do rats float, Bargo?" the one who had shoved Frodo first asked.  
  
"I heard they sink like stones, straight to the bottom." The lad behind Frodo grinned back rather nastily.  
  
"Leave me alone!" Frodo shouted, trying to duck past the bully in front of him. Both of the other boys were just a few years older and just a little larger than he, and it was two against one. The first one snagged him by the arm as he tried to run.  
  
"I heard you don't like the water much, little rat," Reginard sneered, still gripping Frodo's arm. Frodo couldn't keep the fear from showing in his eyes at the sound of those words. It was no secret that his parents had passed away as a result of a tragic boating accident and Frodo had shunned the river ever since.  
  
"That's right," said Bargo, grabbing Frodo's other arm. "An' what's more, rats are dirty little creatures." He rubbed an imaginary smudge from Frodo's cheek with his thumb.  
  
"I think this little rat needs a bath, don't you?" Reginard said as he knocked Frodo to the ground. Frodo coughed at the cloud of dust that rose around him as he landed and struggled to get up, but the older boy was holding him down, face first against the ground.  
  
"NO!" Frodo cried as he clawed at the sandy dirt, trying to crawl out from under the pressure on his back. It was a useless gesture. Bargo grabbed his legs while Reginard took him by the arms, and the two bigger boys lifted him up.  
  
Frodo twisted desperately in their grasp as they left the dusty path and plunged into the undergrowth of the riverbank, laughing and taunting him as they neared the swift waters of the Brandywine.  
  
"Let's clean him up, Reg," Bargo suggested, eyeing the terrified youngster he was tormenting. "Want to go for a swim, Baggins?" he said, addressing Frodo directly.  
  
Blessed Eru! They meant to do it, Frodo realized. They really were going to throw him into the cold currents of the river and watch him drown! Frodo cried out in panic and thrashed as hard as he could. His terror of the river was an overwhelming force that consumed him completely.  
  
Most of the other youngsters at Brandy Hall liked to swim in the cool waters of the Brandywine in the hot summer months, but not even Merry could coax Frodo to the river's edge, let alone into the water itself.  
  
"Head first, Frodo. That's the only way to do it," Reginard said as Bargo laughed in response. Frodo certainly wasn't laughing, and neither was the small lad who crouched unnoticed in the undergrowth a short distance away.  
  
Merry had seen this kind of thing before, the larger boys pushing Frodo around and saying nasty things to him that hurt his feelings. This was different, though. This was worse than anything they had done before, or at least anything he had seen them do. As intimidated as he was by the older lads, Merry was getting angry. Besides, Frodo couldn't swim! He had to do something, and fast.  
  
A small tree limb lay near by, downed by the winds of the last thunderstorm that had blown through. Merry grabbed it and leapt out swinging for all he was worth. He might have looked almost comical but for the look in his eyes as he bore down on the two bullies. A head shorter than both of them and younger even than Frodo, Merry was hardly something the likes of Reginard and Bargo would back away from on a normal day.  
  
Crack! Merry whacked Bargo in the leg with the tree limb as hard as he could, and the older lad shouted an expletive as he staggered away from Frodo. Reginard dropped Frodo and made a grab for Merry, who danced back out of the way.  
  
"You let him be, you half - orc!" Merry yelled indignantly. "I swear, I'll - "  
  
"You'll what, Brandybrat?" the older boy shot back as he advanced on Frodo's diminutive protector.  
  
Merry held his ground and brandished the tree limb. "Try something and find out," he growled, trying to sound much larger than he really was. Freed from the grasp of his captors, Frodo stood up slowly, not taking his eyes off his young cousin.  
  
Merry was entirely too bold for his own good sometimes. He might get the stuffing beaten out of him in the process, but Frodo was determined to keep the bullies from laying a hand on Merry. Frodo came up behind the nearest of the older boys and delivered a hard kick to the back of his knee, causing him to fall forward with a sharp yell of pain. At the same instant, Merry swung at Reginard, who was distracted by Bargo's howling. The branch made contact with the older boy's shoulder and Frodo slipped past him to Merry's side as Reginard reeled from the blow.  
  
"Run, Frodo!" Merry grabbed Frodo's arm and dropped the branch as they fled, running flat out up the path toward the comparative safety of the Hall. They burst through the doors and ran on down the hallway, making several turns until they reached Merry's room. Once behind the solid wooden door, they both fell to the floor in a gasping, panting heap.  
  
"Blast it, Merry," Frodo said between heaving breaths. "You're going to get yourself hurt doing things like that." As his breathing slowed somewhat, Frodo hugged his younger cousin in a tight embrace. "I sure am glad you did it, though."  
  
"We look out for each other, Frodo," Merry said solemnly. "Just like we promised to." It was true that the two did their best to take care of each other. There was indeed strength in numbers, and it was harder for the bigger lads to thrash on them if they were together. Today, Frodo had been in one of his moods and had wandered off alone, with nearly disastrous results.  
  
Merry looked at Frodo with a perturbed expression as he stood and brushed the dust from his breeches. "I've had it with those orc - faced muck munchers!" he grumbled loudly. "And I know you have too," he said, reaching out a hand to Frodo.  
  
Frodo sighed and pushed himself to his feet, using Merry's outstretched hand for balance. "They're getting worse all the time, Mer. Sometimes I manage to avoid them, but today they were waiting for me." Frodo winced as he bent to examine a cut on his knee.  
  
"I saw what they were doing to you," Merry said sullenly. "You're learning to swim, Frodo. That's all there is to it."  
  
Frodo's head snapped up as he looked at Merry incredulously. "I don't want to swim, Merry. Not now, not ever." He shook his head decisively. "I'll just stay away from the paths that lead to the river, and they won't be able to drag me there again."  
  
Merry wasn't buying it. "Right. What happens the next time, Frodo? What happens when there are more than two of them, or if they catch you alone again?" Young though he was, Merry was a practical hobbit and stubborn as well. Once he got an idea in his head, he held to it until he made something of it, and this was no exception. "I'll teach you, Frodo. There's a shallow pool in the river a ways away. The older lads leave it alone because it isn't as deep as they'd like, but it's deep enough to swim in."  
  
Frodo looked at Merry with thinly disguised horror. "Merry, I can't!" he cried miserably. "I hate the blasted river! Please, let it go."  
  
"No!" Merry said hotly. "Not this time, Frodo." His voice softened with his next words. "I don't want to teach you so you can go play in the water with me. I want you to learn to swim because it will make you safer." Merry looked into Frodo's eyes and spoke as honestly as he could. "You said they're getting worse all the time. What if they really do throw you in the river, Frodo?"  
  
Frodo looked back at Merry and any protests died unspoken as he saw the serious look on the younger lad's face. "You really mean it, don't you, Merry?" he said softly, letting his gaze fall away from his cousin's pained countenance.  
  
"Of course I mean it, Frodo. You're not just my cousin, you're my best friend." Merry's voice began to tremble just a little as he spoke. "I won't let them take you away from me. If they're going to hurt you, they'll have to hurt me too." Merry hugged Frodo fiercely, allowing his tears to break free at the thought of anything happening to his favorite cousin.  
  
"All right, Merry. I'll try," Frodo said, his words muffled by the curly head resting against his shoulder. "You're the only one who could talk me into going near that wretched place."  
  
~*~To Be Continued~*~ 


	3. Swimming Lessons

Remarks -  
  
QTPie 2488 - Little Merry is a firebrand, isn't he? He'd jump in to help Frodo any time, danger or no. There's more Merry and Frodo to come!  
  
Aratlithiel - Bargo and Reginard do indeed need a good whacking!  
  
Aelfgifu - Merry is definitely a bit friendlier in this fic than he is in RATM! Poor chap is developing multiple personalities, it seems. As to the names of the other hobbits, I don't know where Bargo came from. There is a Reginard Took in Pip's family tree, but this isn't him. I just liked the name!  
  
Iorhael - I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I know you're busy with your new fic, so read at your leisure!  
  
Endymion - Merry and Frodo are adorable, and Bargo and Reginard are disgusting! You described them to perfection. And now, Merry and Frodo return!  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Looks like you're in agreement with a lot of people when it comes to Merry and Frodo interacting. It's so fun to write scenes for those two!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - In this part of the story Frodo is about 14 years old. The memory of his parents' passing is still rather fresh, so what Bargo and Reginard did to him was really pretty nasty.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 3 - Swimming Lessons  
  
"It's not much farther, Frodo," Merry said as he led the way to the quiet spot he had mentioned to his cousin the day before. They had been walking for a good while and were well away from Brandy Hall and the eyes of its inhabitants.  
  
Frodo found himself wishing their destination were miles away rather than looming nearer. The longer he could avoid the act of voluntarily stepping into those swirling waters, the better he would feel. He couldn't help feeling that he was making a big mistake doing this. Perhaps Merry could teach him to swim, but if something went awry, Merry didn't seem big enough to pull Frodo bodily from the water. As he followed behind his younger cousin, Frodo tried to push that thought from his mind.  
  
Was he just embarrassed to be under the tutelage of someone younger, who he had thought to protect and mentor himself? He tried to tell himself it wasn't so. The last thing he wanted was for Merry to stumble across him lying washed up on the riverbank, sodden and lifeless, all because he was too proud to be taught to swim by a younger lad.  
  
As they rounded a bend in the path, Merry led Frodo down the gentle slope of the riverbank and through more trees and bushes. When they stopped, Frodo looked up and gave a little gasp. The spot where Merry had led him was beautiful. Sunlight filtered through the leaves above to strike the calm waters of a pool in the river, cut off from the main current by a sand bar. The water was so clear that Frodo could see the smooth rocks at the bottom of the pool, and he could tell it wasn't deep.  
  
As if reading Frodo's thoughts, Merry spoke, pointing at the water. "See, Frodo? It's only deep enough to come up to your nose if you stand flat - footed. It will be deeper for me because I'm not as tall as you, but I can swim so I don't mind."  
  
Frodo sighed as he placed the items he was carrying in the shade of a nearby tree. "You realize, I'm only doing this because you want me to," he said as he began to unpack towels from his knapsack.  
  
Merry plopped down beside him and started digging in his own pack. "I don't care why you're doing it, I'm just glad that you are." He brought out a flask of water and took a sip, then handed it to Frodo. "I brought something to eat for later, since we'll probably be here most of the day," he continued.  
  
"Do you think it will take that long?" Frodo said with some trepidation. He didn't want to spend any more time in the water than was absolutely necessary.  
  
"Well once you get the basics down, you'll need to practice," Merry said patiently. "If I get my way, you and I will be coming here almost every day for a while."  
  
"Meriadoc the Merciless has spoken," Frodo teased, summoning a smile despite his growing nervousness. "Go easy on me, Mer. You know how I feel about this," Frodo said as he unsnapped his braces and pulled his shirt over his head without bothering to finish undoing the buttons.  
  
Merry had nearly finished undressing already. He felt no embarrassment at his nakedness, for there was nobody around to watch, and the day was growing hot already. The water would feel good to him, and he hoped he could get Frodo to enjoy it too.  
  
"The first thing you should learn is how to float," Merry explained as they stood at the edge of the water. Frodo didn't seem like he had heard a word Merry said. He was staring down into the water, silent and unmoving. "Frodo?" Merry poked his cousin to break the spell.  
  
Frodo jumped and looked at Merry apologetically. "Sorry, Mer. I was just - just thinking." He looked at the water again, a sad look crossing his face. "I can't help it. Every time I get near anything larger than a small stream - "  
  
"You'll be fine, Frodo. Trust me." Merry grabbed Frodo's hand and held on tight. "Just step in slowly with me, just up to your ankles for now." They waded in, hand in hand, Merry watching Frodo's face intently. Frodo's eyes were closed and his jaw was set in a firm line of determination. The water was cool, but not uncomfortably so. Frodo took a deep breath as it flowed over his feet and around his ankles.  
  
"Deeper now, just stay with me," Merry coaxed. He waded in further, letting the water come up to his waist. Frodo, being taller, was now up to his hips in the pool, and stepping carefully over the slippery rocks below. He looked down at the water and back at Merry again, a hint of fear rising in his heart.  
  
"Stay there for a moment and watch," Merry instructed. "I'm going to go in deeper, up to my chest. When I get there, I'm going to take a deep breath, lift my feet up and float on my back." Merry proceeded to do just as he had stated, wading in until he was chest deep in the clear water. He filled his lungs and lay back, floating on the surface, relaxed and calm.  
  
Frodo watched, somewhat amazed. Merry was floating effortlessly in the pool, bobbing on the surface as if he weighed no more than a feather. He wasn't sinking like a stone or kicking and splashing as if in the grip of some malevolent force that was trying to take him down.  
  
"Come on, Frodo!" Merry urged him. "It's easy. You'll see." Merry got his feet under him again, and stood facing his cousin. "Just keep walking until you're in a bit deeper."  
  
Frodo gritted his teeth as he followed Merry's instructions, stepping carefully and wading deeper into the water's embrace. The only thing that kept panic from overwhelming him as the water reached his chest was the fact that he could still feel the bottom beneath his feet, firm and unyielding.  
  
Merry's eyes locked with Frodo's as he moved deeper to stand beside his taller cousin. Now up to his chin in the cool water, Merry took both of Frodo's hands and addressed him calmly. "Just fill your lungs with air, Frodo. The air will make you float." Frodo did as he was told. "Now lift your feet up and let the water carry you," Merry said, gripping Frodo's hands tightly in his. "I won't let go, and if you're scared, just put your feet down again. Trust me, Frodo."  
  
Through his fear, Frodo held on to his cousin's words and hands. Not quite feeling bold enough to lie back in the water as Merry had, Frodo remained upright as he lifted both feet a few inches off the bottom. His eyes grew wide in panic as he sank a little, but he held the breath he had taken a moment before. He sank no more than a couple of inches before he felt himself starting to float ever so slightly.  
  
"Oh!" He exclaimed in surprise, reflexively putting his feet back down against the smooth rocks of the bottom. The sensation of floating was new and strange. He tried it again, waiting longer before putting his feet down this time. To his surprise, the water wasn't sucking him down greedily, but seemed to be holding him up instead.  
  
"It's easier here, where there's no current to deal with," Merry explained. "That's why we're starting here. Once you're actually swimming well in calm waters, we can move on to the river." Seeing Frodo flinch, he added quickly, "Don't think about it now, just concentrate on this."  
  
Frodo nodded. Taking another breath and still holding onto Merry's hands, he tried lying back in the water this time. A feeling of elation flooded through him as he realized it was working. He was floating! He wasn't going straight to the bottom like Bargo and Reginard said he would.  
  
"Great, Frodo! You're doing just fine," Merry said with a grin, pleased at his cousin's progress. After a bit more practice at floating, Merry had Frodo change to floating on his stomach.  
  
"You'll have to get used to getting your face wet," he explained. "Watch me," he said and repeated the floating procedure, this time on his stomach with his face in the water. After a moment, he stood on the bottom again and wiped the water from his eyes. "What you need to practice with this is remembering that while your face is in the water, you can exhale, but you just can't inhale." Merry demonstrated again, and bubbles rose around him as he slowly let out the breath he'd been holding.  
  
Frodo tried the exercise reluctantly, not getting his face all the way into the water at first. The idea of putting his nose under was foreign to him and he fought it instinctively. Merry urged him on with patient words, and eventually, he managed to keep his face in the water for a moment or two without panicking.  
  
"Swimming is just like floating, only you use your arms and legs to make yourself move through the water," Merry explained. He demonstrated a few simple strokes pulling himself along just under the surface of the water from one side of the pool to the other as Frodo watched. Merry swam back to Frodo's side again. "Now you try it with me. Just do what I do."  
  
As Merry extended his right arm, Frodo did the same. He drew it back through the water as he brought his left forward in repetition of the motion. He found himself moving through the water now, instead of just being carried by it. He managed just a few strokes before putting his feet down on the bottom again.  
  
"You're learning fast, Frodo," Merry praised him. "Now try doing that and kicking your feet at the same time. You'll go farther and faster." Merry showed him, and Frodo did his best to follow, a little clumsily at first, but with more confidence as he kept at it.  
  
By the time they stopped to eat, Frodo was actually doing something close to swimming in the calm little pool. He could make it across the pond and back without stopping to put his feet down. He grinned at Merry as the sun dried the water from his skin and hair.  
  
"I can't believe it, Merry! I never thought I could learn to swim, as scared as I was. You're a good teacher." He ruffled Merry's curls affectionately.  
  
"You're a good student," Merry beamed back at him. "Now you have to practice whenever you have a chance. You have to get strong and sure with it before you try it against the river currents, and they can be tricky." Merry knew what he was talking about. The first time he had gone for a swim in the Brandywine he had been astounded by the strength of the eddies and swirls and the fierceness of the undertow. In water like that, one had to keep his wits about him. He knew he wasn't big enough or strong enough yet to swim where the currents were fastest, and he kept to the slower moving parts of the river.  
  
After luncheon and a brief nap in the sun, Merry and Frodo returned to the water. Merry finished his teachings for the day by showing Frodo how to glide along completely underwater like a fish, skimming the bottom and rising to the top for air when needed. The more comfortable Frodo was in the water, the faster his skills would improve, and Merry tried to make sure the lesson was fun as well as useful.  
  
To his surprise and relief, Frodo found that he had indeed had fun learning the basic skills Merry taught him. The cool water had felt nice in the heat of the summer day, and it didn't feel like the terrible enemy he had thought it to be. The river itself still seemed a frightening thought, but this calm little pool held nothing that seemed a danger to him anymore.  
  
After that day, Merry and Frodo went frequently to the secluded spot to swim, and soon Frodo was moving confidently and gracefully through the water with strong, sure strokes. He knew that soon Merry would want him to try the river itself, but not where the current was swiftest. Even so, Merry wasn't rushing him. Frodo was learning at his own pace and would find himself ready for the next challenge soon enough.  
  
For now it was enough for Frodo to feel the water parting for him as he swam and the sun warming his back and shoulders. It was enough to fill the afternoon with splashes and laughter, and to walk back to the Hall afterward, hair dripping and sand sticking to his feet.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo wasn't expecting the assault when it came. Things had been quiet for some weeks now, and in his eagerness to continue working on his swimming skills with Merry, he had all but forgotten Bargo and Reginard.  
  
They had not forgotten Frodo, however, and seemingly out of nowhere they appeared to block the path in front of him. Upon seeing them a few paces ahead, Frodo stopped in his tracks.  
  
"Where have you been, runt?" Bargo taunted him. "Haven't seen you around much. Been hiding, I suppose." The older lad aimed a swing at him, cuffing him lightly on the side of his head.  
  
Frodo glared at him. "Hiding or no, at least I haven't had to look at your face," he shot back.  
  
"Smart mouth you've got, little rat," Reginard said, crossing his arms in front of him. "I'd be a little more careful, if I were you."  
  
"Or what?" Frodo said resignedly. "You'll pound on me some more? Don't you have anything better to do?"  
  
As Frodo tried to step around them and continue on his way, Bargo moved swiftly to grab him. "No, we don't have anything better to do," Reginard said, grinning nastily. "Nothing that's as fun anyway."  
  
Frodo stomped on Bargo's foot, causing him to let go for an instant. He rushed forward, catching Reginard in the chin with his fist as he made a run for it. He managed to slip past the older boy and put a few paces between them before Reginard tackled him from behind.  
  
Frodo went down in a heap with his arm twisted behind him and menacing words in his ear. "That'll cost you, you skinny little twit," Reginard hissed. He turned to Bargo and said, "hold onto him."  
  
Bargo grabbed Frodo and pulled him upright, keeping his arm behind him in a tight, painful grip. As Frodo struggled to free himself, Reginard hit him hard in the midsection. Frodo doubled over, coughing.  
  
"That'll teach you swing at me, little rat!" Each of the boys grabbed one of Frodo's arms and dragged him down the path toward the river. "It's time you learned who's boss around here, and we're gonna show you right now," Reginard said as he yanked on Frodo's arm.  
  
The river! They were heading for the river, just as they had several weeks back. He'd been swimming often in the still waters of the pond, but he had yet to test himself against the currents of the Brandywine. As he was dragged through the underbrush Frodo prayed someone would be nearby and hear the commotion. They reached the sandy bank without anyone else emerging, however, and Frodo's heart sank as he watched the swift current flowing past.  
  
Holding Frodo's arms, Bargo kicked his feet out from under him and Reginard grabbed them. Carrying Frodo's writhing form between them, the two lads stepped up to the edge of the bank.  
  
"The Brandybrat isn't here swingin' branches this time, Frodo." Bargo sneered down at the frightened hobbit.  
  
"No! Please don't!" Frodo pleaded. "I don't care if you thrash me, but - "  
  
"We'll thrash you some other time, Frodo, bet on it." Reginard promised. "If you come out of the water again, that is." He looked over at Bargo and nodded. Frodo closed his eyes and waited in terror as the two bigger lads began to swing him between them, preparing to heave him into the rushing waters.  
  
Back and forth, to and fro they swung him, and released him into the air at the crest of the third and last swing. In midair, Frodo drew as much air into his lungs as he could and waited for the current to take him. He hit with a heavy splash, and water flew up around him. His heart thudded noisily in his chest, as he seemed to sink forever, his foot brushing the silt of the river bottom.  
  
He surged upward, pulling with his arms and kicking with all his might, surfacing a short distance away to the sound of rushing water and harsh laughter. He caught another deep breath just before the current tugged him under again and carried him further downstream. He broke free of the undertow with difficulty, rising to the surface coughing and spluttering.  
  
Was it like this when the river had taken his parents? Did it seem a thing alive and willful, clutching at them greedily and pulling them down? By now the terror that had risen in him was threatening to block out all rational thought.  
  
~Remember! Remember what you've learned!~ Frodo thought desperately. Striving to calm himself, he stopped struggling against the water and started to move with it. He pulled with long strokes and kicked hard as he made for the riverbank.  
  
It took some time before he was able to get close enough to the bank to catch hold of a low hanging tree branch. The branch held against the current and his weight, and he used it to pull himself from the river and onto the dry sand at its edge.  
  
No longer in any danger of drowning, Frodo lay on his stomach on the riverbank, his chest heaving and his heart thundering in his ears. He could hear voices and the sound of running feet approaching as Bargo and Reginard drew near. ~Coming to see if they've killed me,~ Frodo thought dimly.  
  
"There's the drowned rat now," Bargo called. "Hey, Frodo! Did you swim or did the river spit you out?" Frodo was nearly ill at the sight of the immensely pleased smirk on Bargo's face.  
  
"Take your best guess," Frodo said, fixing his gaze on Bargo's, emboldened by the knowledge that he could indeed swim. They could throw him in the river as much as they pleased, and he would swim safely away from them.  
  
"Well what do you know," Reginard snorted as he joined Bargo. "He's a better swimmer than those parents of his."  
  
The words stung him and Frodo could make no sharp retort. Fortunately his tormentors felt they had done enough damage for one day and sauntered off laughing at their own brilliant wits.  
  
Frodo shivered on the bank, exhausted and dripping, chilled by more than the cold water seeping from his clothing. He dragged himself into a slightly more open area where the sun broke through the trees and shone warmly on the ground. Spent from exertion and tears, he eventually succumbed to sleep as the sun dried the evidence of his ordeal.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	4. Kindred Spirits

Aelfgifu - Thank you for easing my mind as to how well Merry was doing in teaching Frodo to swim. I haven't had swimming lessons in years, but I was drawing on my own memories.  
  
Aratlithiel - If you want to kick Bargo and Reginard's backsides, you're probably not alone. They are definitely deserving, aren't they? And yes, Frodo has a backbone. He might not realize it yet, but he sure does!  
  
Daisy Brambleburr - Thanks for joining us! I hope you enjoy the story! There are good and evil folk among all races, and unfortunately for Frodo, hobbits have their nasty sides as well - at least in this fic! And yes, that comment they made about Frodo's parents was awful.  
  
LotrSeer3350 - It seemed somehow natural to me also to have Frodo be frightened about the river after what happened to his parents. In this fic, I've got Merry being about 3 years younger than Frodo. That way, they are close in age, but separated by enough time that their perspectives might differ to some degree.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bargo and Reg are going to have to cook up other ways to pick on poor Frodo now, aren't they? Unfortunately, their imaginations regarding that subject are quite vivid!  
  
Shirebound - I might have sneaked chapter 2 in there when you weren't looking. I have a habit of doing things like that! Merry teaches Frodo with a patience born of love and friendship. He will continue to be there for his cousin.  
  
Endymion - LOL! Good question about the term "to pull 'bodily' from the water". Is there really any other way to do it? A strange expression, when you try to puzzle it out word by word.  
  
QTPie 2488 - I was also afraid to put my face in the water when I was learning to swim. Like you, I love the water now. Swimming completely underwater and skimming along the bottom is my favorite! Merry and Frodo are back, and Bilbo too!  
  
Chapter 4 - Kindred Spirits  
  
~*~Bag End, Hobbiton, present time~*~  
  
Sam looked at Merry incredulously. "Those monsters! How could they do that to Mr. Frodo, after all he'd been through?" The look on Sam's face spoke volumes, and Merry could see shock, anger and empathy written there.  
  
"They weren't the sort to care much about what Frodo had been through," Merry answered solemnly. "Not ever." The way Merry said those two words sent a chill down Sam's spine for some reason. Was there more to tell? How much more?  
  
"You mean it didn't end there?" Sam said, almost fearing the answer. "They didn't stop did they?"  
  
"No, Sam. They didn't." Merry contemplated the pattern on the rug as he continued to speak, the memories vivid in his mind. "A few years later, when Frodo was about sixteen - "  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland 1384~*~  
  
"And that is why trolls cannot stand the light of day," Bilbo finished, his eyes twinkling merrily. Frodo wasn't sure whether he had just heard the honest truth or the tallest of tales, but he was laughing so hard he didn't care one way or the other. The library was deserted except for the two of them, and Frodo was glad. It wasn't very often that Bilbo came to visit, and when he did they didn't always find time to talk without everyone else hovering about.  
  
"Uncle Bilbo, is that a true story, or are you just teasing me?" Frodo asked, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. It had been a long time since he had laughed that hard. Frodo and Bilbo had a true bond that had formed easily and early on. Although Bilbo was in truth Frodo's cousin, Frodo had always called him Uncle. It made sense, considering most of the older hobbits around Frodo were indeed aunts and uncles.  
  
"It's all true, I promise you, lad," Bilbo said with the utmost seriousness. He waggled the stem of his pipe in Frodo's direction and adopted a suddenly stern tone. "I've heard a few new tales lately, my boy. Tales of lively young lads getting up to some mischief, if you will." Bilbo was very much the authoritative elder as he spoke. "What's this I hear about you raiding the farmers' mushrooms? That doesn't sound like you, Frodo."  
  
The laughter was gone and the light in Frodo's eyes dimmed noticeably at those words. How could Bilbo just turn the subject so quickly and catch him off guard like that? Frodo shuffled his feet nervously. "It's not as bad as it sounds, Uncle," he said softly, not meeting Bilbo's gaze.  
  
"Well how bad is it then? You cannot fool me, Frodo." Bilbo quirked an eyebrow at the youngster before him. "You and I are kindred spirits, and I don't have to spend a lot of time around you to know when something isn't quite right."  
  
"I didn't want to - that is, I didn't mean any harm by it," Frodo stammered uncertainly. There was something about Bilbo's eyes boring into him that made it impossible for him to prevaricate.  
  
"Do not tell me what I want to hear, tell me what you really mean." Bilbo leaned forward locking his gaze with Frodo's. "You started to say you didn't want to do it." He held up a hand as Frodo started to protest. "If you didn't want to, why did you do it, lad?"  
  
There was no getting out of this. Frodo fervently hoped he could count on Bilbo to keep this conversation strictly between them. The consequences of others becoming involved could be less than desirable. "I did it because I would have been thrashed for certain otherwise. They gave me a choice. I could do it for them and maybe get away with it, or I could refuse and they would thrash me. Now do you see why?"  
  
Bilbo sat back in the armchair again and sighed heavily. "You're still having trouble with those lads, then, Frodo?" He shook his head. "I had hoped it would have stopped after the river incident. What of Saradoc? Does he know about any of this?"  
  
"You won't tell Sara and Esmie, will you?" Frodo pleaded. "If they get involved, a reprisal is all but guaranteed." It wasn't that the Master of the Hall didn't care about what was happening to Frodo. He was just so busy with so many important things. Frodo felt that his problem with Bargo and Reginard would only be a nuisance to Sara and Esmie if he brought it up. Besides, the two older boys would just say Frodo had ratted on them, and would attack him even more viciously than before.  
  
Frodo turned away for a moment and traced a finger lightly over the bindings of the books that lined the mahogany shelf nearby. Nobody seemed to understand, except maybe Merry. Anger began to build inside him as he stared at the mute volumes before him. A moment later he whirled back around, his hands clenching into fists in frustration. "I try to avoid them, Uncle. Most of the time I do, but if they're determined to find me, they will. This isn't something you can help with."  
  
Bilbo rose and approached the agitated youth, placing his hands on Frodo's shoulders in a caring manner. "Frodo, I understand how you must feel. If these lads are as prone to vicious behavior as you say, perhaps they shouldn't be learning a trade at the Hall. If they cannot behave themselves accordingly, they should be sent back to their families." The look on Frodo's face caused him to pause for a moment.  
  
He drew Frodo into an embrace and continued. "I will respect your wishes, Frodo, if you demand it, but it flies in the face of my better judgment." He sighed again. "Will you at least think about what I have said, lad?"  
  
Frodo pulled back and nodded. "I promise I will," he said softly. He certainly wanted his trouble with the bullies to end, but he truly did fear speaking out regarding the issue. Besides, he told himself, since the river there had been few incidents, none of them going beyond taunting. The mushroom fiasco was the first serious scrape he'd been in with those two for some time.  
  
Bilbo found himself wondering again if Brandy Hall was the kind of place that was appropriate for a lad like Frodo. When his parents had died, Frodo hadn't the luxury of a quiet place to deal with his grief without an ever - present crowd of relatives nearby. Bilbo was certain that much of the grief from that time remained in Frodo's heart, unable to find proper release amid the distraction of the bustling Hall.  
  
"Enough of this serious talk now, my lad." Bilbo said, trying to lighten the mood. "There will be plenty of time for you to sit inside and swap tales with an old hobbit." He gave Frodo a loving pat on the back. "Off with you now."  
  
Frodo gave him a relieved smile as he left the library, and wandered down the hallway. Maybe there was time before sunset for a quick walk and some fresh air.  
  
Bilbo sat in silence, chewing absently on the stem of his pipe as Frodo departed. That boy was trying to shoulder much too heavy a burden on his own. Bilbo had been deeply disturbed by that business with the river, and was more disturbed still to find the trouble continuing.  
  
He understood Frodo's desire to deal with the problem without adult intervention, but he didn't see how that would be possible. Sooner or later, those boys would step too far over the line and something would have to be done. He only hoped that Frodo was not underestimating the danger he might be facing.  
  
Bilbo made a decision. While he respected Frodo's wishes and the reasons for them, he was determined to intervene if matters did not improve. If anyone could convince Frodo to speak out, Bilbo was confident that he could.  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo squinted as the last rays of daylight angled down into his eyes. He wandered rather aimlessly, just breathing the fresh, warm evening air and trying to forget his anxiety over his talk with Bilbo. What if Bilbo decided to mention their conversation to Saradoc? He had promised to honor Frodo's request not to raise the issue, but what if the Master of the Hall had noticed something amiss and prodded him?  
  
Frodo stopped as he reached the barn, sinking down to sit with his back against the weather - beaten wood. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of a pleasant summer evening soothe him. A quiet sound and the feeling of something soft brushing against his leg caused him to open his eyes.  
  
The cat purred and wound in and out around his feet, as he sat with his knees bent. She had given birth to a litter of kittens recently, and Frodo stood to follow her into the barn. He hadn't seen them for the last two weeks and he was curious as to how they were getting on.  
  
He eased the barn door open and stepped inside, letting the fading sunlight pierce the shadows. Over in the corner behind some crates, he found the little nest the mother cat had made, and the five kittens nestled inside. Their little ears were no longer folded back against their heads and their eyes were open, regarding him curiously.  
  
As the mother cat purred and pranced, Frodo picked up one of the kittens gently, delighting in the softness of its fur and the tiny voice that mewed at him. "Hello, there." He stroked the kitten's fur lightly. "You've gotten bigger, haven't you?" The kitten nibbled on his thumb with its sharp little teeth, and Frodo disengaged it with care. As he placed the tiny creature back among its siblings, he heard voices coming nearer.  
  
"That cracked old Bilbo sure seems to like him," Bargo said sarcastically. "It would figure they'd get along. They're both not quite right, if you ask me."  
  
"You've got that straight," Reginard replied with a snort. "Elves, Dwarves, Wizards and skinny little orphans." Frodo could imagine the nasty smirk on Reginard's face. "Not the kind of company any self - respecting hobbit keeps."  
  
Frodo's face reddened at the remark. They were fine people to talk about Bilbo! A new realization struck him and chased the angry thoughts away. They were coming closer! He mustn't let them corner him in the barn! He looked around him hurriedly. He couldn't leave, or they would see him. The loft was the only place to hide, and he climbed the tall ladder as quickly as he could.  
  
As the door began to creak open below him, Frodo ducked into the hay and lay still, hardly daring to breathe. They were underneath him now, their voices rising loudly in the confined space.  
  
"I could swear I saw the little rat wanderin' round a bit ago," Bargo said as he looked around. "Been a while since we had any fun with him, hasn't it, Reg?"  
  
"I reckon we owe him some attention for not completing our mushroom run for us," Reginard answered with a smirk.  
  
"Didn't he go like we said? I thought I heard somethin' about Farmer Maggot catching him red - handed and all but makin' dog food of him." Bargo's voice rose up clearly and Frodo tried to make himself even smaller in the pile of hay above.  
  
"Oh he went, all right," Reginard replied. "But he failed. We still didn't get any mushrooms, did we Bargo?"  
  
"No, Reg. That we didn't," Bargo replied and the two stood laughing. Bargo paused. "This door shouldn't be open this late should it?"  
  
In the loft above, Frodo felt something tickle his foot and flinched involuntarily as a mouse ran across his toes. His eyes widened as he realized his unplanned motion had sent wisps of hay falling to the dirt floor below.  
  
Reginard grinned and pointed up at the loft. Neither spoke as they placed their hands on the tall, sturdy ladder that led up into the space above. Reginard went first, placing one foot and then another on the ladder's rungs, climbing quietly upward with Bargo at his heels.  
  
Frodo had burrowed in as far as he could, concealing himself in the itchy hay. It tickled his nose and chafed at his back through his shirt, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to scratch. He held his breath as the loft floor creaked under the additional weight of the other two young hobbits.  
  
Bargo nudged Reginard and pointed at the pile of hay. Suddenly and as one, they reached in and grasped Frodo, yanking him from his hiding place. "Lookit that! We got rats in the barn, Bargo," Reginard crowed as Frodo shook hay from his hair and tried to break out of the older lad's grip.  
  
"What do you suppose we oughta do with him, Reg?" Bargo grinned savagely at Frodo, digging his fingernails into the younger lad's arm. Frodo winced at the pain.  
  
"Well, we know he can swim," Reginard said slowly, turning his gaze to Frodo. "Maybe he can fly too." They dragged him, struggling, to the loft's edge.  
  
"How about it, Frodo? If you can swim like a fish, can you fly like a bird?" Reginard whispered in his ear as he and Bargo forced Frodo to the very edge of the high loft.  
  
Frodo squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of dizziness that assaulted him. If they pushed him from this height, he would surely be injured, and it would look like an accident. "Let go of me," he almost whispered, his voice lost to his fear.  
  
"You don't like the view, Frodo?" Bargo sneered at him. "Maybe you'd like it better over there!" Bargo gave Frodo a shove back toward the barn wall, and Frodo slammed into it hard. He had no time to recover before they were on him, pummeling him viciously. Blows landed on every part of his body as fists punched him and feet kicked him. He sank to the floor and covered his head with both arms, trying to protect himself. An agonized cry escaped him as Reginard grabbed him by the hair and slapped him hard across the face.  
  
"You're pathetic, Baggins!" Reginard growled, still holding on to him. "You're worthless and unwanted, and your only friends are that stupid Brandybuck and that cracked old fool from Hobbiton." Reginard dropped him with a disdainful laugh. "Come on, Bargo. Let's go."  
  
They climbed down the ladder. Once they had reached the dirt floor of the barn, they removed the ladder and laid it flat on the ground, leaving their victim no escape from the loft above.  
  
Frodo lay still and tried to catch his breath. His face burned where Reginard had slapped him, and he ached everywhere the fists and feet had touched him. They had thrashed on him before, but never so brutally. Frodo moved slowly and deliberately to the edge of the hayloft and looked down in despair at the ladder, now lying useless upon the floor.  
  
He was alone and trapped, high up in the hayloft as night fell. Reginard's words stuck in his heart like knives. Worthless. Unwanted. Was it true? Did anyone at the Hall truly want him there? At least Merry did. And Bilbo cared for him, but Bilbo didn't live at Brandy Hall. He was far away in Hobbiton and only came to visit from time to time. Feeling wretched and forsaken, Frodo lay down in the hay and wept.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	5. Silence is Broken

Everyone -  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - I know, it's hard not to just run over and hug poor Frodo, isn't it? Bilbo is about to get a little closer to a decision about him.  
  
Endymion - Yes, those boys are starting to really get mean, aren't they? Hobbits with an attitude!  
  
Aelfgifu - Thanks for your compliments on how Bilbo is portrayed. He's not going to be a doddering old goof in this fic, I promise!  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Yes, poor Frodo! And I'm afraid there's more in store for him yet.  
  
Krista - Good to have you with us! I like stories of the hobbits' youth and childhood years too. This one will have a few twists in it. Let's just say Frodo's in for perhaps a little more than he bargained for!  
  
Shirebound - Such treatment of our dear Frodo cannot go unpunished, can it? We will deal with those bullies eventually. Until then, they are unfortunately still at it.  
  
Aratlithiel - Thanks for hanging in there and reviewing even if the site didn't seem to want you to! Those rotten "weasels" are really asking for it, aren't they?  
  
TTTurtle - I was hoping you would find us again! Stay tuned, because I'll be updating every other day or so. This is a long story and there's much more of it yet to tell. I too have been the shy, skinny new kid before, and so can also relate to how Frodo feels here. I think many of us probably can!  
  
Daisy Brambleburr - Chapter 4 was sad for Frodo. Still, he endures, and Bilbo is backing him up as much as possible.  
  
Trust No One - Thanks for joining us! Emma is Frodo Angst Queen, and I walk humbly behind her at a respectful - and safe distance, for she is the keeper of Evil Merry! More angst ahead!  
  
QTPie - 2488 - Those bullies are plenty mean, and they're still at it.  
  
Iorhael - You're right! Frodo is far from worthless. Bargo and Reginard are experts at hurting his feelings, though.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 5 - Silence is Broken  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, morning~*~  
  
Morning sun illuminated the inside of the barn as Bilbo and Merry opened the doors. When Frodo hadn't appeared at breakfast and his room had proven deserted, they had gone walking and calling for him.  
  
Bilbo had suspected that Frodo had gone out early and neglected to inform anyone of his whereabouts, until Merry had pulled him aside and voiced his fears that something was wrong. Frodo always told someone where he was going, Merry had explained. Merry also feared the worst when he saw Reginard and Bargo smirking and laughing together. They never laughed like that unless they were proud of themselves for something.  
  
"Look, Uncle Bilbo!" Merry pointed at the downed ladder. It took both of them to lift it and lean it back against the edge of the hayloft. Bilbo gestured to Merry to remain on the ground, and he began to climb slowly.  
  
As he peered around in the loft, Bilbo spied a pile of hay to one side, and he saw a tangle of brown curls sticking up out of another nearby hay mound. "Frodo!" he called as he climbed the rest of the way into the loft. He knelt beside the sleeping youngster and spoke his name again, shaking him lightly. "Frodo, wake up, lad!"  
  
Frodo slowly opened his reddened, puffy eyes and met Bilbo's concerned gaze. Bilbo fought to conceal his anger when he saw the slight discoloration on Frodo's cheek and the swelling that had begun around his eye. "Frodo, Eru's graces, lad!" Bilbo fought to keep his voice steady. He didn't want his own voice to cause Frodo additional distress. "We missed you this morning." He brushed Frodo's hair back out of his eyes and continued in his kindest tone, "Tell me what happened, my boy."  
  
The obvious love and concern in Bilbo's voice and the gentleness of his touch undid Frodo completely and he fell into the older hobbit's arms, sobbing miserably. Merry's head popped up at the edge of the loft, and the younger lad crawled through the hay to his cousin's side.  
  
When he was steady enough to speak, Frodo let the whole story out in the open, including the awful words that were so hard to forget. "He called me worthless and unwanted, Uncle," Frodo whispered. "He's right, isn't he? Nobody wants me here, do they?"  
  
"I do, Frodo." Merry hugged his cousin tightly. "You can't listen to them. They don't know their arses from - "  
  
"Enough, Meriadoc," Bilbo admonished gently. Merry was too young to use such language, precocious though he might be. To Frodo he said, "Merry is right, Frodo. You mustn't allow yourself to believe such things, especially when they are said by such ill - favored louts."  
  
"I know you're right, Uncle, but it's so hard sometimes." Frodo rubbed at his eyes and continued. "Unless I've done something wrong, no one seems to know I'm even around. I sometimes think I could just disappear and no one would notice."  
  
"Ssshhh. Don't talk like that, lad." Bilbo looked for something to say that would reassure the youngster, but nothing came to him. Instead, he just stayed there with Frodo and held him, at a loss for how else to help him.  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, mid - afternoon~*~  
  
"Frodo, I'm glad you've decided to speak about this with Saradoc," Bilbo said, his arm around Frodo's shoulder in a gesture of support. "Those boys must be stopped, and that's all there is to it." Frodo nodded sullenly. He looked down at the floor, wishing he could just disappear into the weave of the rug beneath his feet.  
  
Bilbo rapped smartly on the door of the study, and the voice of the Master of the Hall responded. "Come in, come in." Saradoc was smiling until he saw the serious expressions on the faces of the two hobbits before him. "Frodo, Bilbo, please sit down and tell me what's on your minds."  
  
Bilbo saw that Frodo was still struggling with his decision to speak, and he opened the conversation instead. "Sara, there is something you should know about those lads, Bargo and Reginard." Bilbo's tone was hard, and his eyes flashed angrily at the memory of Frodo in the hayloft. "Those lads have been picking on Frodo for some time now, and they are causing him harm. It must be stopped."  
  
Saradoc steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Is this true, Frodo? Why have you not come to me before this?"  
  
There was no turning back now. Frodo raised his eyes to Saradoc's and stammered, "Yes, it's true, but - I mean - they've given me a hard time, it's certain." He looked at the floor again. "If they find out I told you, they'll thrash on me even more for it." There seemed to be no way out.  
  
"Thrash you? Great stars, Frodo!" Saradoc leaned forward in the big leather chair and gently touched Frodo's arm. "They've been at you recently," he observed, examining the lad's face. Ice had brought the swelling down, but not enough to keep Saradoc from noticing.  
  
"They've been at him, all right," Bilbo said, his tone icy. "They've beaten him, and imprisoned him in the hayloft overnight!" He rose to his feet and glared down into Saradoc's face. "This is intolerable, Saradoc. I shall take action myself if you are not so inclined!"  
  
His mouth set in a grim line, Saradoc rose also, his gaze level with Bilbo's. He was the Master of Buckland, and was not about to be shouted down by an eccentric old wanderer like Bilbo Baggins. "You forget yourself, Bilbo," he said, warning implicit in his tone. "Please lower your voice. I can hear you well enough, rest assured."  
  
"I shall lower my voice, but not my expectations," Bilbo shot back, as Frodo slumped miserably in his chair. "I expect these incidents to stop, Sara. Frodo does nothing to deserve such treatment, and I shall be damned if he shall have it."  
  
Frodo shifted uncomfortably, as all other eyes in the room became fixed upon him. He would rather have been almost anywhere else than under the measuring gaze of the Master of the Hall, and the angry, but protective stare of Bilbo.  
  
"Have they done this to you before, Frodo?" Saradoc asked, addressing the downcast youth directly.  
  
Frodo wished he could muster a commanding tone like that of the elder hobbit beside him, but his voice came out in a stuttering whisper, and he was ashamed. "Not - Not this, exactly," he began, fighting down the impulse to bolt from the room. "Other things."  
  
"What other things?" Saradoc asked, his brow creasing. "Tell me, Frodo."  
  
Frodo took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Saradoc's gaze. "They tossed me in the river once, but Merry taught me to swim, so -" he stopped short, swallowing hard and then forcing himself to go on. "And they made me raid Farmer Maggot's mushroom beds for them. They just," he shrugged and cast his eyes downward again. "They just thrash on me sometimes."  
  
"This ends here and now," Saradoc said firmly, lifting Frodo's chin in his palm. "Those boys will be punished for hurting you, Frodo. They will be cleaning the stables for the next fortnight, beginning at the first light of dawn every day. Let them think about that if they want to thrash you again. There is plenty of work to be done, and if they tend to use their idle time to bad ends, they shall have considerably less of it." He nodded curtly to Bilbo. "Such behavior will not go unpunished at Brandy Hall, and I expect I will hear if there are any further problems." He looked at Frodo meaningfully.  
  
Frodo nodded silently. If he had been right, the damage was done and doom was to fall in the near future. If he was wrong, the attacks would stop and life would be at least bearable. Perhaps Bilbo was right and it had been necessary to say something about Bargo and Reginard, but all Frodo could feel was dread of the days to come.  
  
~*~  
  
"And therefore you will present yourselves to the stable master at first light every day for the next fortnight," Saradoc said, pacing before the two lads. "Tardiness for one day earns you another. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"  
  
There were murmurs of "Yes, Sir" and "Perfectly, Sir" from the two miscreants standing before the judge and jury that was Saradoc Brandybuck. Bargo and Reginard managed to look, if not genuinely contrite, at least somewhat rueful regarding their sentence.  
  
"There shall be no more of this violent behavior against Frodo or any other in the Hall." Saradoc stopped pacing for a moment and regarded the boys sternly. "I trust I shall not have to mention this again."  
  
"No, Sir." Reginard straightened his shoulders as he faced the Master of the Hall. Bargo echoed the sentiment as Saradoc's gaze brushed over him.  
  
"Very well, you are dismissed. Tomorrow you will start with the South Stables." Saradoc opened the door of his study and ushered Bargo and Reginard into the hallway.  
  
An unpleasant task, but necessary, Saradoc thought as he closed the door and stood alone in his study. Lads of that age would act up as a matter of course, he reasoned. Stern discipline must be applied and adhered to, and eventually Bargo and Reginard would mature beyond this rebellious stage of their lives.  
  
~*~The South Stables, the following morning~*~  
  
Bargo stopped shoveling and leaned against the wall of the stable. "What do you know about that, Reg. That little rat finally squeaked, and here we are, up to our arses in - "  
  
"No, not us, Bargo," Reginard snarled angrily. "It's Baggins who's up to his arse in it now." His eyes held something vicious and vengeful. "If he thought he had it hard before, he's got another thing coming."  
  
Bargo stopped sulking and stood up straighter, his eyes taking on an ugly gleam. "Right you are, Reg," he replied. "We owe him double now, I reckon." He grinned at the thought of imminent and terrible revenge, but the grin was swiftly replaced by a frown as Bargo took the extraordinary step of thinking about his situation. "But what can we do now? The Master is onto us, and if we lay a finger on that little bookworm, we'll get it sure as sunrise."  
  
"I don't know, Bargo, but I'm going to get Frodo if it takes the rest of my life," Reginard said, slinging a shovel full of manure onto a pile in the corner. The idea of throwing a load of the same at Frodo Baggins made him smile. "We'll pay that little runt back, no question." He locked his gaze with that of his friend. "I swear it."  
  
~*~Three weeks later~*~  
  
Frodo felt the rough wood of the barn wall sticking in his back with tiny, splintery talons as Reginard held him against it. He sucked in a breath as he was nearly lifted off his feet by the fierce enemy before him.  
  
"I'll tell you how it's going to be, Baggins," Reginard hissed. "You better grow eyes in the back of your skull, rat." A vicious sneer crossed the older boy's face. "There won't always be somebody lookin'. And if you tell - " Reginard slammed Frodo back against the barn wall again. "If you tell anyone, we will thrash you to within a hair's breadth of your worthless, stupid life!" He punctuated the statement by plucking one hair out of Frodo's scalp and twirling it under the younger lad's nose.  
  
Frodo kicked Reginard in the shin as fury rose within him. "You wouldn't dare! You'll be sent away if you try it!" Reginard's grip loosened slightly as Frodo's foot connected with its target, but tightened again as the battle of wills played itself out in the lengthening afternoon shadows.  
  
"Will we, Frodo? Maybe they'll get rid of you instead." Reginard glared down at Frodo. "They don't want you. They just take care of you because they have to. When your parents died, they said, 'Oh, Glory! Another mouth to feed.'" He leaned closer as he spoke his next words. "I hear they even asked why you weren't in that boat too. Bad luck, they figured."  
  
Frodo had borne the assault bravely until that moment. He could have withstood any number of physical blows with more steadiness and aplomb than the cold words which now rang in his ears. "No! You're lying!" He shouted back at the sneering horror before him. "You're a filthy liar, and a snake - "  
  
"Am I?" Reginard smiled nastily. "You'll never know, because they'll never say it where you'll hear them." He brought his lips close to Frodo's ear and whispered, "But I hear them, Frodo. I hear them every day, and they say you should have gone with your folks, to the bottom of the river."  
  
"No - " Frodo protested, his voice finally breaking. "They wouldn't say that! They - "  
  
"They wouldn't say that because they love you, Frodo?" Reginard's voice dripped with obscene sarcasm. "They don't love you. You're a nuisance to them. You're a burden." Reginard released his prey, and Frodo slipped sideways away from him and began backing away. Reginard began to laugh as Frodo stepped away from him unsteadily, stricken to his soul.  
  
Frodo fled. Tears burned in his eyes and his breath in his lungs as he ran without heed to direction or distance. He tore down the lane until it narrowed between two fields of grain grown high and golden in the summer sun. He plunged headlong into the waving wheat stalks, fighting his way through them until he stumbled and fell, gasping, to the ground.  
  
Another mouth to feed. A nuisance. A burden.  
  
It was some time before he managed to right himself and make his way back toward the Hall. He felt as though he were bleeding from a thousand small wounds that no one save himself could see. He slipped past the busy dining chamber filled with his relatives, barricading himself behind the door of his room. He left the candles unlit, and only the fading rays of the daylight aided his vision as he flopped listlessly onto his bed.  
  
He started as a knock on the door broke the silence. "Please, go away," he said to the closed door, remembering belatedly that he had forgotten to lock it as it inched open to reveal the face of Esmeralda Brandybuck.  
  
"Frodo?" She said softly as she peered into the deepening shadows of the room. "Won't you come out and have some supper?" She had seen him dash past the dining hall, and when she hadn't found him in the library, she had continued on to his room.  
  
"No, thank you. I'd really rather not," Frodo answered sullenly from the gathering darkness. He didn't want to see anyone or to be seen by them. He knew he must look a fright, with his hair mussed and his clothes covered with dirt from the wheat field where he had collapsed in exhaustion and misery. They would just paw and pry at him like they always did, feigning concern, but really thinking what a wild ragamuffin he was. He was just that odd little orphan to them, that moody little Baggins boy.  
  
"I'll have something brought to you," Esmie said gently, knowing it was best not to disturb Frodo in such a mood. In the past, attempts to draw the lad out into the open when such fits took him were doomed to utter failure, and she knew better than to try it now.  
  
"Thank you," Frodo muttered, not wishing to add rudeness to his seemingly long list of shortcomings. He lay down and closed his eyes, his back to the door and all that lay beyond it.  
  
~*~  
  
In the time that followed, there was often an elbow in Frodo's ribs or a foot tripping him. Stones were thrown, and shoves and slaps were delivered when no one was looking. After each incident, there followed a meaningful glance or a simple statement that left no doubt that Frodo must keep his silence. He bore it stoically, saving himself as often as not by holing up in the library in the comforting presence of leather bound books and gleaming wood shelves, letting the contents of those volumes transport him away from his loneliness and torment.  
  
Merry struggled with the frustration of feeling powerless to help his favorite cousin. Frodo protested adamantly against any suggestion that he ask for assistance, or merely retreated, keeping to himself for weeks at a time.  
  
~*~Bag End, Hobbiton, present time~*~  
  
Tears stood in Sam's eyes as Merry finished the story. "Didn't anyone else know what was happening to Mr. Frodo?" he asked sadly.  
  
"I'm not sure that they did, Sam. But that was when Bilbo started seriously considering bringing Frodo with him to Bag End."  
  
Sam and Merry looked up as one at the sound of Frodo sitting up and groaning. Frodo rubbed at his eyes rather absently and yawned.  
  
"We're sorry, Frodo. We didn't mean to wake you," Merry said gently.  
  
"You're still up? I would have thought you'd be asleep by now," Frodo said looking at the clock with a small frown.  
  
"We were just talkin', Mr. Frodo," Sam said, feeling a little guilty for having been discussing Frodo's past almost as if the subject of the conversation weren't present in the room.  
  
"I was explaining to Sam about Brandy Hall and why it wasn't the most pleasant experience for you," Merry elaborated. "I hope you don't mind my speaking of it."  
  
Frodo felt much more himself after the calming rest, and he smiled at his cousin. "No, Merry. I don't mind if you tell Sam about it." He settled himself against the sofa cushions. "Have you gotten to the events that preceded my arrival here?" he asked rather quietly.  
  
Merry looked at his toes before answering. "Not all of them, Frodo. I didn't know if you really wanted me to tell that story."  
  
Sam knew the official version of the tale, that Frodo and Bilbo had grown quite close during Frodo's youth and that Bilbo had chosen him as his heir and adopted him. They shared the same birthday in common, and Bilbo had made the light - hearted excuse that he and Frodo would be able to better celebrate their birthdays together if Frodo came to Bag End.  
  
Frodo thought for a moment before answering. "Merry, I think it's time Sam heard the entire tale of why and how I came to live with Bilbo." He turned his gaze to Sam and said, "Sam, there is nothing I wouldn't share with you. No experience, however great or small, however good or frightful."  
  
That being said, Frodo took a deep breath and began the tale himself. "It was a few days before my twenty - first birthday. Bilbo was at Brandy Hall for a visit, but that didn't stop Bargo and Reginard from brewing up the most extraordinarily awful scheme - "  
  
~*~To Be Continued~*~ 


	6. More Than Mischief

++++++ Author's note 17 September 2003 ++++++++  
  
In this chapter, I made the embarrassing error of having placed Buckland on the wrong side of the Brandywine. Those who read the story prior to this date are aware of my oops, but if you're reading it now, you're getting the cleaned - up geographically correct version!  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
Aratlithiel - True, I'm up to no good regarding Frodo's well - being here. Or at least Bargo and Reginard are!  
  
Aelfgifu - Glad you liked the exchange between Saradoc and Bilbo. That was fun to write. I like the idea of Bilbo being a bit fired up and sharp as a tack. And yes, you had advance notice of what's cooking here, but you're still showing up to take it all in. Thanks a million!  
  
Krista - Relatives like Bilbo and Merry are a blessing indeed.  
  
Iorhael - Frodo is a dear, isn't he? How those boys can be so nasty to him is just wrong! Caution. Bumpy road ahead.  
  
Endymion - As I said to Emma, look for more of those arguments between Bilbo and Saradoc. They're gonna be butting heads again, you can bet on it!  
  
QTPie - 2488 - Are those boys the nastiest hobbits in the Shire, or what? And yes, just like their real life counterparts, they only want revenge when they get just what they deserve by way of punishment.   
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - If you're amazed at what those guys can get up to now, keep reading. They're going to take advantage of an opportunity to pull a REAL nasty stunt now.   
  
Iolauslvr - Welcome! Cliffhangers? Who, me? Guilty! I hope you'll keep coming back for more of this story!  
  
TTTurtle - Frodo has some backbone, that's certain. Whether he knows it or not, he's a brave young hobbit. But for Frodo, two against one is not twice the fun, as we will see here.   
  
  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
A/N - And now as a much - deserved reward for your awesome reviewing, here's a rather long chapter with plenty of action and angst for everyone!   
  
Chapter 6 - More Than Mischief  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland September 1389 late afternoon~*~  
  
"Bilbo Baggins, you old - "  
  
Bilbo held up a hand to stem the tide of mock - invective that was surely about to burst from Rory's lips, and chuckled. "Mind your language, Rory. Women and children are present you know," Bilbo said, gesturing to Esmeralda and Merry as they all stood in the doorway.   
  
"I'll take that for you, Bilbo," Saradoc said as he accepted Bilbo's pack and handed it off to a young lad to stow in the guest quarters. "Did you have a pleasant journey from Hobbiton?"  
  
"Quite pleasant, Sara." Bilbo's eyes widened as his gaze fell upon Merry. "Is that young Meriadoc? Great stars, lad, how you've grown!" Merry grinned as Bilbo ruffled his hair. They had not seen each other for several years, and he truly had grown a great deal in the time between the visits.   
  
The echo of a door slamming down a long corridor and running feet caused the entire group to turn and look through the parlor and down a hallway. "Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo shouted as he sprinted toward them.   
  
Bilbo threw his arms wide as Frodo crashed into him. "Frodo, lad!" he laughed gaily. "And I thought Merry was getting big," he teased, stepping back to get a good look at the somewhat gangly tween. "I know you eat a proper meal, boy, but I can't for the life of me figure out where you're stowing it."  
  
Frodo laughed in spite of himself. He'd heard many varieties of comments regarding his rather spare frame, but Bilbo had a different way of saying it that didn't make it sound like an insult. "I just spread it out evenly, Uncle," Frodo answered, much to Bilbo's delight.   
  
"That sense of humor is all Baggins," the old hobbit crowed fondly, draping an arm over Frodo's shoulders as the entire group moved away from the door.   
  
"It's good to see you again, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said quietly as they made their way deeper into the Hall. "I've missed you since your last visit."  
  
Bilbo nodded and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry I haven't made the trip more often, Frodo. Have you been staying out of trouble then?" Bilbo did his best to give Frodo a stern look.   
  
Frodo colored a little as he answered. "I've done my best, inasmuch as trouble will allow," he said.   
  
There was something in Frodo's tone that caused Bilbo to pause momentarily. Was Frodo still having problems with the other lads? Bilbo's last visit had opened his eyes to the true extent of Frodo's difficulties at the Hall. He worried that the lad was still holding back from telling all that occurred on a daily basis regarding his situation. Was the boy afraid to speak further, or was he just trying to stay out from under foot? Bilbo made a mental note to gently pry more specifics from the lad later on when they had some time alone together.   
  
Time together would likely come on another day, Bilbo reflected. For now, there was plenty of news and gossip to catch up on, and the elder hobbits would likely gather in Rory's parlor and talk long into the night as usual. Frodo and Merry would be welcome, certainly, but the conversation would likely continue for much longer than the attention spans of two young lads would endure.   
  
~*~after nightfall~*~  
  
Bargo took a good, long drink of ale and belched appreciatively. He and Reginard sat together in the night shadows at the river's edge, watching late travelers coming and going on the Bucklebury Ferry.   
  
"Good ale," Bargo remarked. They had managed to raid some out of the stores earlier in the day when nobody was looking in their direction. They sat drinking it now, and were getting a little tipsy as they lounged at the base of a big tree.   
  
There were a couple of the Big Folk preparing for transport from the other side of the river, a scruffy, surly pair of Men with horses and a few small packs. Their grumbling voices could be heard from the short distance where the two hobbit lads were sitting, and bits of the conversation carried through the otherwise still air of the early Autumn night.   
  
"Dammit, Dolan! Tradin's no good 'round these parts," the shorter of the two groused. "This trip warn't good fer half o' what the last one got us." The man's thick brogue could be heard clearly as he hefted a pack onto one of the horses' backs.   
  
The other man grunted as he strapped another of the packs in place behind the saddle. "Don't I know it, Fergus," the man replied, his accent far less noticeable. "We'll make up for it, with a few hands of cards or something else."  
  
The hobbit lads snickered softly to themselves. Traveling traders then, looking to buy and sell whatever they could scrounge up. The Big Folk they always saw along the Brandywine never seemed to be much to look at or to listen to. They were always in need of a good bath and always complained about not having as much money as they wanted. A pretty sorry bunch, to say the least.   
  
Reginard sat up a little straighter, his eyes narrowing and a grin spreading slowly across his ale - flushed face. "Hey, Bargo. I know how we can help those fellows make some extra money on the side. Of course, they'll have to spend a little up front, but isn't that the way business is done?"   
  
"How's that, Reg?" Bargo queried, still watching the men.   
  
"Your ma ever threaten to sell you down the river?" Reginard asked, smirking.   
  
Bargo looked at him in irritation. "What's that got to do with anything?" It wasn't any of Reginard's business what his ma had threatened him with.   
  
"Well, I was just thinkin' we ought to sell Frodo to the Big Folk. He's not good for much around here except for takin' up space, and everyone would just think he'd run off or something." He considered. "Those gents there would probably take him off our hands for a fair price." He sported a nasty grin. "And I still don't think we've gotten quite properly even with him for setting the Master on us that time."   
  
Bargo started laughing. "That would be a grand joke, wouldn't it? Can you imagine the look on the little rat's face?" He pictured Frodo gaping in shock, his eyes wide in terror. "You said you'd think of some way to get him, even if it took forever. Well, it took a while, but not that long," Bargo chortled. "What do you think they'd do with him, anyway?"  
  
Reginard swigged his ale and voiced his thoughts. "Do I care?" He downed more ale. "Seriously, they'd probably sell him off at a profit, or put him to work themselves," he said, not elaborating on what kind of work he was thinking about. "They get a good deal and an opportunity to make some money, and we get a little coin of our own and have a great laugh. Everybody's happy."  
  
"Everybody but Frodo," Bargo chortled.   
  
"So what?" Reginard said with a nasty smirk. "I'd like to see that pale - faced bookworm nit put in his place. I'd sell them Mr. Meriadoc Brandybrat too, but with his father being Master of the Hall, he'd be missed right off."   
  
A thoughtful look crossed Bargo's ruddy face as he turned to Reginard. "That little snip of a Brandybuck would miss Frodo, I suspect."  
  
"I reckon you're right, Bargo," Reginard replied, considering. "But think about it. Brandybrat still wouldn't really know what happened, would he? Just like everyone else, he would think that Frodo just finally had enough of the Hall and took off."  
  
Bargo looked as steadily at his companion as his ale intake would allow. "You serious, Reg? You really think we could pull a stunt like that?"  
  
Reginard's grin became a little more predatory as he rose to his feet. "Get ready to have some fun, Bargo," he said. "We're not gonna be bored tonight."   
  
The stocky tween began to walk toward the men on the shore, swinging his arms casually at his sides and whistling an off - key tune. "Good evening, gentlemen," he called.  
  
Both of the men looked up at the same time, a little surprised to see one of the Shire Folk walking the banks at night. "Whattaya want, halfling?" the one called Fergus grunted.  
  
"My friend and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation." He gestured behind him at Bargo. "We've got a way to help you make a little of that money you say is so scarce these days, if you're interested."  
  
"And just what kind of proposition could a pair of youngsters like yourselves have to offer, eh?" Dolan said sarcastically, clearly unimpressed with the swaggering tween before him.   
  
"What if we could get you something at a bargain price that you could sell to someone else for a pile of coins? Something that we maybe don't have much of a use for, but someone else just might?" He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms across his chest. "What do you say?"  
  
"Depends on just 'ow good a deal yer makin' us," Fergus said, looking down at Reginard. "What're the goods?"  
  
"Not what, good sir, but who. We got this orphan boy hanging about, and we could do without him, we reckon. We'll make you a good price on him, and you might be able to sell him off to someone who'll get a job of work out of him - or something else," Reginard said rather crudely.   
  
"That so?" Dolan asked, considering. "One of your own, some reject who doesn't pull his weight?" He frowned at Reginard and continued, "What good would that do us? Who'd pay good coin for something like that?"  
  
"He's physically sound and he's in his right mind," Reginard answered. "He's just a little skinny and bookish. But he's a pretty one, if that counts for anything."   
  
"What's yer price, halfling?" Fergus figured if the price were low enough, maybe there could be some profit even from a single skinny orphan. He and Dolan had some contacts in Bree who just might be willing to pay a fair bit depending on what use they could have for such a creature. If this one were fair to look at or able - bodied enough to be a laborer, he might bring a decent price after all.   
  
Reginard considered. "Twenty gold pieces. Like I said, we don't need him, so we're not asking much. Surely you'd be able to sell him off for double that, I would think."  
  
"So sure, are ye boy? If that's so, then why are ye willin' to take so little fer 'im?" Fergus leaned in close to Reginard and gazed at him intently. "I ain't payin' naught 'til I see 'im and make sure 'e's as you say 'e is."  
  
"Fair enough," Reginard agreed. "If you'll give us an hour, we'll bring him to you. You won't be disappointed."   
  
"For your sake, I hope not," Dolan growled. "Wasting an hour of good travel time isn't doing us any good."   
  
"One hour then," Reginard said, and turned to call back up the bank. "Hey Bargo, on your feet. We've got a job to do."   
  
~*~  
  
Dolan gave Fergus a sidelong glance, then looked back up the path where the two hobbits had disappeared. "I'm none to sure of what we're getting ourselves into," he muttered.   
  
  
  
"Aww, quit frettin' like a fool, Dolan." Fergus slapped him on the back. "It's a short trip to Bree, an' we'll be able to handle a li'l halfling well 'nough."   
  
"I don't worry that we'll be able to handle him, small as he's likely to be," Dolan responded. "I'm more concerned with the implications of what we're considering. It's a dangerous game, kidnapping folk and selling them into servitude, Fergus."  
  
Fergus scowled. "So ye're scared to do it, is that it?" He continued to bait his companion. "I always knew ye were a bit o' the coward."  
  
Dolan spun to face the man who made the snide remark. "You listen to me, you bloody sot," he began rather hotly. "I'm not afraid to do it, I just have the wisdom to consider it from all angles. We'll have to be careful not to let the wrong people catch us at it, or the game is up. I want to spend this winter somewhere comfortable, not in a stockade for trading in slave labor."  
  
"Takes coin to be comfortable, Dolan," Fergus reminded him. They had been a bit short of that lately and here was a chance to make up their losses in one deal. "Are ye goin' to let yer principles stand in th' way o' business?"  
  
"The depth of my moral fibre is none of your concern," Dolan replied, his confident manner returning. "Business is business, and I've dealt in illicit goods before to make ends meet. It's just going to be a new challenge to have those goods walking and talking."  
  
At any rate, it would only be a few days' journey to Bree. Dolan supposed he could deal with a bit of a challenge for such a short time, especially if it meant being warm and well - fed through the winter months.   
  
~*~  
  
"If you think Lobelia's scowl could curdle milk on a normal day," Bilbo was saying with a rakish gleam in his eye, "you should have seen her then!"  
  
Saradoc, Esmeralda and Rory burst into laughter at Bilbo's tale. Merry was sound asleep on a sofa nearby, having given in to sleep a short while before, and Frodo merely smiled. He had never actually met the Sackville - Bagginses, but he had heard Bilbo speak acerbically about them on occasion.   
  
"Bilbo, you had better watch your step," Saradoc cautioned. "I know you've encountered trolls and dragons in your travels and more besides, but Lobelia is, well, something of a different sort altogether."  
  
"Hmmm, yes," Bilbo acknowledged. "Lobelia is - " He paused, and allowed a sour tone and expression to cloud his voice and features. "Lobelia is - family." He spoke the last word as if making a pronouncement of certain doom, and laughter erupted around him once again.   
  
Frodo's head snapped up suddenly as he realized he had nearly nodded off where he sat. He supposed he had better say good night, or he would end up in the same state as Merry, who was snoring softly across the room.   
  
"May I be excused?" Frodo asked politely as he rose from his chair. "I think it's time I turned in," he continued with a yawn.   
  
Bilbo rose and hugged him. "Certainly, my boy. I fear we've wearied you with our endless prattle," he said with a wink. "Sleep well, Frodo lad."  
  
"I'm sure that I shall," Frodo answered with a smile. "Good night everyone."  
  
Frodo departed for his room with a warm glow in his heart. Bilbo's visits, while somewhat infrequent, were always occasions when laughter came easily to him and his spirits were lifted noticeably. He walked the distance to his room feeling happier than he had in some time.   
  
Frodo's room was near the end of a long corridor that was mainly occupied by guest rooms. Unless there was a major event going on, such as Harvest Festival or Yule, many of the rooms lay vacant. Frodo had purposely asked to have his room in that part of the Hall for the privacy it afforded, caring little for the distance he had to walk to most of the common areas.   
  
He closed the door behind him as he entered, and it latched with a soft click. He locked it as was his habit, and made his way to the bed. He was so tired from the day's excitement that he got no further with his nightly routine than the removal of his weskit, which he draped haphazardly over the back of a chair. He lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes, and soon peaceful sleep stole over him.  
  
~*~  
  
Bargo and Reginard hovered outside the open window and peered in cautiously at Frodo's sleeping form across the room. A little moonlight filtered in behind them, giving just enough illumination for them to be able to see Frodo, sound asleep and motionless but for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. He looked so peaceful, as if for the moment he had no cares to trouble him. Reginard smiled to himself. All that was about to change.  
  
"Got everything we need?" Reginard asked in a whisper, poking through the bag Bargo carried.  
  
"Sure do," Bargo answered, taking a brief inventory of the contents.   
  
"Between the two of us, we should be able to handle him easy," Reginard said with confidence. "I don't suppose he'll come quiet - like, though." It was a lucky break that Frodo had chosen a room in a mostly empty section of the Hall. If there was a little noise associated with what was to transpire, it was doubtful it would be heard.   
  
"If he gets too riled up we can use this." Bargo brandished a small vial of clear liquid. He pulled the cork from the top and held it out to Reginard, who took a quick whiff and stumbled backward with his nose wrinkling.   
  
"Whooo, that's powerful. Where'd you get it?" He gazed again at the small vial of clear liquid, wondering what a real snort of it would do.   
  
"Nicked it from the healer's stores the last time I got sent in for a fix - up. He gave me a good toot of the stuff and I nodded right off. Woke up an hour later with some new stitches in my leg and a dizzy head. I swiped it for the keen buzz, but if you just dump some of it on a cloth and hold his nose in it, he won't be too much trouble."  
  
  
  
"Perfect. Time's wasting, so let's go get him," Reginard said gleefully, as he slowly pulled himself up and over the edge of the windowsill. He swung one leg and then the other over the sill and dropped quietly to the floor beneath the window. Bargo followed, and his pack scraped against the sill.   
  
Reginard flinched at the noise and looked toward his sleeping prey. Frodo stirred restlessly, and his eyes fluttered open to behold the intruders.   
  
Suddenly fully awake, Frodo sat up abruptly and hissed, "Get out of my room!" The sound of his own voice surprised him as it resonated in the otherwise silent space. He hadn't realized he could produce a sound so tense and filled with suspicion and hatred.   
  
"Oh, we will, Frodo," Reginard answered. "And you're coming too. Isn't that right, Bargo?" Bargo moved forward a few steps from the window, reaching into his pack for something.   
  
Frodo got to his feet nervously. Just what did Reginard mean by that? Another raid on the farmer's mushrooms? Did they plan to make him steal ale from the storehouses for them? He steeled himself and stood his ground. He was no longer a little lad anymore, but a tween. He'd had it with Bargo and Reginard pushing him around, and the sight of them standing brazenly in his room uninvited in the middle of the night made him flush with anger.   
  
"No. I'm not going anywhere with you," he spat. "Leave by the door or the way you came in, I don't care which. Just leave!" His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he fought to breathe evenly and to stare his enemies down with cold cobalt flames burning in his eyes.  
  
"Easy, Frodo. No need to get excited." Bargo stepped forward again, not taking his eyes from Frodo's. Frodo stood stock still, pale in the light of the moon as Reginard and Bargo slowly approached him.  
  
"I will not be party to any more of your late night raids or antics," Frodo elaborated. His resolve began to waver slightly as he looked quickly from one lad to the other. In spite of his confident speech, he involuntarily took a step backward.   
  
"Antics, he says," Reginard smirked. "But Frodo, this is so much better than anything we've done together before. It's much more exciting, I promise you."   
  
As if on cue, they both lunged forward. Frodo reacted instinctively and brought a fist up into Reginard's jaw with a force that surprised both assailant and intended victim. Bargo took the opportunity to drop his pack and duck behind Frodo, leaving him effectively surrounded.   
  
"Brilliant shot, rat. It's the last one you'll get." Something ugly came into Reginard's eyes as he straightened and faced Frodo again. The look on the older lad's face caused a chill to crawl down Frodo's spine. Reginard was smiling.  
  
At that moment, Bargo grabbed Frodo from behind, locking his arms behind his back. As Frodo struggled to free himself from Bargo's grasp, he opened his mouth to shout for help. Before he could make a sound, a hard slap landed squarely across his face as Reginard backhanded him.   
  
Reginard reached into Bargo's pack and drew out two small coils of rope and a piece of cloth. "Hold him, Bargo," he growled, approaching with deliberate, menacing steps.   
  
  
  
Frodo was dizzy from the shock of the blow he'd received, and fear had begun to seep into him. Whatever the two were up to this time, it was serious. "Let me go!" he said, his voice sounding fuzzy for the ringing in his ears. "HEL - " The shout ended almost as soon as it began, as Reginard thrust the cloth into Frodo's mouth and tied it behind his head, gagging him.   
  
"This can be easy, Frodo, or it can be hard," Reginard intoned as he unwound the first coil of rope. Frodo struggled harder and Bargo pulled upward on his arms, causing him to wince and cry out. The gag effectively stifled the sound and the sharp cry of protest was reduced to a muffled grunt that carried no farther than the far side of the room.  
  
Reginard handed the rope to Bargo and stepped behind Frodo. "Tie him up, Bargo. If he won't come along of his own accord, we'll just have to drag him." Reginard added his strength to the battle with the struggling youth, forcing Frodo face - down onto the floor. Bargo bound Frodo's wrists behind his back, being none too gentle about the process.   
  
Frodo was still writhing and kicking, refusing to go down without a fight. His anger and fear warred with each other as one of his large, hairy feet slammed into Bargo's shin. Bargo retaliated with a kick of his own, his foot connecting sharply with Frodo's side. "Blasted rat! I'll teach you to kick me!" He drew back to strike again, but Reginard held him back.   
  
"Let's just finish the job, Bargo. Time is short." Suiting action to words, Reginard grabbed the second coil of rope away from Bargo and tied Frodo's ankles together. Frodo lay completely bound before him, breathing hard and staring up at him with undisguised hatred.   
  
"Better get that stuff ready," Reginard told his cohort. "I think he's angry with us." Sarcasm ran like the Brandywine from that voice.  
  
What stuff? Frodo's mind reeled in fury and panic. Angry? Of course he was angry! How dare they barge into his room and assault him? How dare they subject him to such treatment!   
  
Bargo held another cloth in his hand, this one folded neatly and smelling of something strange. As Bargo brought the cloth closer to Frodo's face, Frodo tried to roll away from him. Reginard knelt down and pinned Frodo in place, reaching out to grip his chin and hold his head still.   
  
~No! You cannot do this!~ Frodo's mind shouted in the absence of his voice. They mustn't! If they rendered him unconscious, he would have no chance to fight back, or even to know where they were so intent upon taking him in the middle of the night.  
  
Frodo sucked in a lungful of air as the cloth descended over his nose. He held his breath stubbornly. A sweat broke out on his brow as he struggled not to inhale. ~Can't breathe! Hopeless! Eru, help me!~   
  
"Come on, rat! Have a good whiff!" Reginard sneered as Frodo trembled with the effort to avoid the inevitable. In the next instant, the battle was over as Frodo's oxygen - starved lungs betrayed him and he inhaled at last. In the end, holding his breath had been the worst thing he could have done, as it caused him to inhale more deeply than normal.   
  
The powerful fumes invaded and began to claim him. He heard Bargo's voice as if it were coming from a great distance, rather than from right next to him. "Remember when we said you were worthless, Frodo? Well, we take it back."  
  
Frodo's vision tunneled to a pinpoint and his head swam mightily. Not worthless? They took it back? What did that mean? He couldn't see and he couldn't move. He could no longer feel the stinging of his face from Reginard's slap, or the dull ache in his side where Bargo had kicked him. He plunged down into the blackness that rose to meet him.  
  
Bargo and Reginard wasted no time in gathering up their burden. The left by means of the door, deciding that was better than trying to shove Frodo's limp form through the window. The hallways were completely deserted, and they emerged out into the night through a lesser - used exit.  
  
~*~  
  
It wasn't too far to the ferry, and they hurried up the path bearing Frodo between them like a lifeless rag doll. Seeing the two men up ahead, they slowed and worked their way down the slope of the bank where they paused to lay Frodo on the ground nearby.   
  
"Right on time and exactly as promised," Reginard said, rubbing imaginary dust from his hands. "Well?"  
  
"What did you do to him?" Dolan muttered as he knelt to get a closer look at Frodo's bound form. "You mess him up too bad, he won't be worth anything to us."  
  
"No harm done, I swear it," Reginard said with a smile. "Just a whiff of something to make him cooperate." He reached out to Bargo who put the vial into his hand. "If you take him, we'll give you the rest of this." He held the vial up. "He's likely to be a bit unhappy when he wakes up, so you might need it."  
  
For the time being, Frodo was completely unaware of what was happening. The two men looked down at him, sizing him up. He was a little skinny, just like that smart - ass halfling said, and he was obviously a young one. "Not very old is he?" Dolan asked curiously.  
  
"He's almost twenty - one," Bargo said. "He's not a child anymore." What Bargo failed to mention was that at his age, Frodo certainly wasn't an adult either.   
  
Fergus joined Dolan, gazing down at the unconscious prisoner. A little pale, but fine - boned. There were some who would pay a handsome price for such a good - looking youth. He looked at Dolan and raised one eyebrow, then gestured for Dolan to step a short distance away with him.   
  
The men backed away and spoke together in low voices for a few moments, then Dolan turned to the hobbit lads and said, "All right. It's a deal. Twenty gold pieces for your orphan boy." He looked down at Frodo and then back to Bargo and Reginard. "I don't usually deal in live goods, but business is slow, so I'll take a chance." He counted out twenty coins as Fergus lifted Frodo and draped him over his shoulder like a sack of grain.   
  
Dolan accepted the vial from Bargo, tucking it into his pocket. Fergus draped Frodo's limp form over the back of one of the horses, and the men prodded them onto the path that led toward the village of Bree.   
  
"Goodbye, Frodo," Reginard whispered. "Pleasant journey." He and Bargo turned and walked back up the path, unconcerned with the fate to which they had just condemned one of their own.   
  
~*~  
  
  
  
The first thing he noticed was his throbbing head as the effects of the drug subsided. A dull ache had spread from the base of his skull forward, and now its tendrils reached out to the space behind his eyes. He opened them gingerly, trying to get a look around him.  
  
Frodo realized that he was outside as a chilly breeze struck him. He could hear the whisper of the leaves in the trees that rose around him, although he could see little in the darkness. Perhaps he couldn't see, but he could certainly feel. The wind pricked him sharply through the thin fabric of his shirt and he shivered against it.   
  
His first reaction was to try to curl in upon himself, to hold in what warmth his own body could provide him. The attempt was only partially successful, as he could not wrap his arms around his chilled torso with his hands bound.   
  
It was as if one sensation at a time presented itself to him. Now he could feel the roughness of the rope against his skin. Coherent thought began to push away the cobwebs and confusion the drug left in its wake, and he remembered the scuffle. He remembered that he had lost. What had he expected, with two of them bearing down upon him?  
  
He groaned, but the sound that reached his ears was only a murmur. There was something in the way, blocking it. Frodo recalled that Reginard had stuffed the gag in his mouth and prevented him from calling for help, from pleading with any who might have heard and come to his aid.   
  
Where were they, then? Where had Reginard and Bargo gone? Was he alone and lost, left bound and helpless somewhere beyond the Hall? Tales of the Old Forest came to mind and he wondered if they had dumped him over the gate into that benighted space where it was rumored that the very trees moved of their own accord.   
  
"Look, e's wakin' up." So he wasn't alone! But whose voice was he hearing? It was deeper and rougher than either Bargo's or Reginard's, and the accent was definitely not of the Shire.   
  
He blinked, attempting to focus his vision. The blurred edges of the images began to sharpen into the terrifying sight of two Men looking down at him. His eyes widened and he recoiled in shock and trepidation. He had seen some of the Big Folk from afar, but he had never been so close to them. Now he was frightfully close to these two, and he was - he was a captive!  
  
A tall man with dark hair and a hawkish, beaky nose jutting from a thin face was reaching out toward him now, and Frodo tried to back away. He only managed to wriggle a few inches backward as a hand pulled the gag away from his mouth.   
  
"Where am I?" He asked, his voice shaking. If this was a joke, it wasn't funny anymore. "Where are Bargo and Reginard?" He looked around wildly, uncertain as to whether the two would be a welcome sight or not at that point.   
  
"So many questions," Dolan said calmly. "Your friends are not here, halfling. They have left you in our care, it seems."  
  
"They aren't my friends!" Frodo's statement of the obvious seemed to amuse the man. Frodo forged ahead. "What do you mean, they've left me here?"  
  
"They sold you to us," Dolan told him plainly and simply, as if discussing the weather. "We bought you from them for a fair price, and we hope you will bring fairer still when we get to Bree."  
  
Frodo was aghast at what he was hearing, and suddenly the meaning of Bargo's parting words became painfully clear to him. Not worthless. They had sold him like a bushel of apples! It took a moment for the rest of the man's words to register, and when they did, Frodo fought a wave of panic.   
  
"Bree?! I don't want to go to Bree!" Frodo's voice was trembling. "I want to go home, please! I - I'm not for sale. Take me back! Let me go!"   
  
Frodo could see the other man more clearly now. He was not quite as tall as the first, and had shoulder - length reddish hair that hung down into his eyes, and a beard that was in need of trimming. A bath would have improved the appearance of both of them.  
  
"So ye aren't fer sale, ye say? Someone ought to have told them as accepted our coins." The red - haired one was speaking, and Frodo tried to absorb the meaning of the words.   
  
Bargo and Reginard had kidnapped him and sold him to these Big Folk! They were taking him to Bree, and -   
  
"What are you going to do with me?" Frodo blurted. He wasn't sure that he wanted to hear the answer. He waited, petrified with fear.  
  
Hawk - beak was unpacking a couple of bedrolls and some other items as they prepared to make camp for the remainder of the night. "When we get to Bree, we'll see about finding an interested party to take you off our hands," he said, throwing a careless glance at Frodo.  
  
Terror overwhelmed Frodo completely at the man's words. "No! You can't do this!" he shouted. "Let me go, please!" He began to struggle anew against his bonds in sheer desperation.   
  
The red - haired man spelled out the meaning of his companion's words as he checked the security of Frodo's bonds. "If ye're lucky, some wealthy fellow will buy ye as household help. An' if ye're not," he merely shrugged.   
  
  
  
Frodo might have been a youngster by hobbit standards, but he knew enough to understand the meaning of the words the man spoke. These men didn't care what became of him. They cared only for the money they might make by selling him to the highest bidder.   
  
"I am not a thing to be bought or sold!" Frodo cried desperately, disbelief warring with his fear. His struggles mattered little, as the ropes that held him were secure. "Please, if you take me back your money will be returned to you, I swear it!"  
  
The hawkish one laughed. "So sure, are you?" He fixed Frodo with an icy stare. "From what those other two said, there isn't anybody who would give up any coin to get you back. Besides, why would we want our money back when we can at least double it by selling you off?" There was no emotion in the voice at all, just a cold indifference that frightened Frodo more than any mockery ever could.   
  
"No, please! You mustn't take me away!" Frodo fought against his bonds furiously, calling out for help into the empty woods as he did so.   
  
The red-haired man turned to his companion. "Dolan, gimme that stuff the other halflings used on 'im. 'E's gonna hurt 'imself if 'e doesn't calm down, and I'm not listenin' to this all night."   
  
The other man dug a piece of cloth out of a pack and poured something onto it from a small vial. Frodo remembered seeing the same thing happen in his room when Bargo and Reginard had attacked him. The red - haired man approached Frodo again with the cloth in his hand.   
  
"What are you doing?" Frodo cried in terror. "No! Get away from me!" Any further protests were silenced as the cloth descended over his nose and mouth and was held there by a strong hand. Frodo's head was pressed back against the ground as he fought for air. Unable to avoid it any longer, he breathed in, and the drug went to work almost immediately. Sound faded to a buzz in the background and the forms of the men became hazy and indistinct as darkness claimed him once again.   
  
"Aww, I think we upset 'im," Fergus chortled. "Right cute when 'e's scared, ain't 'e?" The gag was returned to its former position.  
  
"I'd say he's a bit wound up," Dolan agreed. "We've got three more days to Bree with this little thing to deal with." He shook his head ruefully. "We might have made a big mistake, Fergus."   
  
Fergus gazed at the unconscious hobbit. "Nah, I don't think so. 'E might be a wee bit o' trouble, but we'll get somethin' for 'im, I think."   
  
They made camp and took turns at watch, making sure their 'investment' was secure for the night.   
  
~*~To Be Continued~*~ 


	7. Into Thin Air

Wow! Almost 60 reviews in 6 chapters! You guys are really spoiling heck out of me, and I thank you!  
  
LilyBaggins - Thanks for reviewing chapter 2! Merry and Frodo are definitely quite close in this story. I hope you'll stick around for the rest of the tale! Frodo will definitely need some coddling later on!  
  
Daisy Brambleburr - Those boys are just the most awful things! Now Frodo is on his way to Bree and who knows what else!  
  
QTPie - 2488 - I am pretty mean to poor Frodo, aren't I? I'm glad you're enjoying the story so much. Those Big Folk are creepy indeed, and I promise more creepiness.  
  
Krista - I don't think Bargo and Reginard can spell 'conscience', much less have one.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bilbo and Merry will miss Frodo for sure, and they're not going to be happy!  
  
FantasyFan - Thanks for joining the fun! Bargo and Reginard are just as nasty as they can be. You've got Merry and Bilbo pegged when you say they won't belive Frodo ran away.  
  
Iorhael - Amazing how far Bargo and Reginard were willing to go to have their laugh, isn't it? What an evil revenge to take against someone who only just wanted them to leave him alone!  
  
Aratlithiel - You saw the original version before I added a truckload of angst, so you would know if the version I posted was better! Our tough little Frodo soldiers on.  
  
Endymion - Yes, Frodo's in some trouble, and there's no Sam to save him. Bilbo is where all hope will have to come from. As to who might be interested in Frodo, we'll be finding out in a few chapters!  
  
Trust No One - We'll see if Frodo fights back. He's pretty scared, that's for sure!  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - You want more? You got it!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 7 - Into Thin Air  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, the following morning~*~  
  
Merry banged on Frodo's door impatiently. "Frodo, wake up! You've slept through first and second breakfast!" Merry thumped the door again in exasperation. "Lazybones!"  
  
When there was no answer to his prompting, Merry turned the knob and was surprised when the door opened. He had twisted the knob more as a reflexive action than for any other reason, knowing that Frodo typically locked his door. He and Frodo had both been up late the night before, and perhaps Frodo had been too tired to care.  
  
The door swung open slowly, and Merry entered the room. Although Frodo wasn't there, nothing unusual met his gaze. The bed was unmade and the covers rumpled and cast aside, but that was normal. Frodo had a habit of not making his bed immediately in the morning. The weskit Frodo had worn the day before was dangling over the back of a chair.  
  
Merry decided to go in search of Bilbo to ask him if he had seen Frodo yet that morning. Bilbo was usually the first and last person to see Frodo every day when he came to visit. Merry smiled when he thought of the ever - strengthening bond between the two. They just seemed to understand each other and the connection they shared went beyond merely having a surname in common. They seemed able to say more to each other with a single glance than they could with a hundred words.  
  
Wandering the corridors of Brandy Hall, Merry could find neither Bilbo nor Frodo. The door of the library stood ajar, and Merry poked his head in for a look. He didn't see anything moving, but he stepped inside to make sure. Only silent books were there to greet him, waiting patiently to tell their tales to any who turned their pages.  
  
Pausing briefly to pick up an old book from one of the tables, Merry thought about how much Frodo seemed to like this room with its many dusty old texts and mysterious maps. He had never developed a great affinity for it himself. The musty smell of all the old books and the unusual quiet of the place simply didn't suit him as it did his bookish cousin.  
  
If he couldn't find Bilbo, Merry decided he would look for Frodo by himself. That might even be the best thing to do if Frodo had gone looking for a place to be alone for a while. There were few present at Brandy Hall who could break Frodo's solitude without receiving pained looks and monosyllables in response, and Merry was one of them.  
  
As Merry stepped out into the sunny courtyard, one of the subjects of his search appeared in the form of Bilbo, smoking his pipe and looking off into the distance.  
  
"Good morning, Meriadoc," Bilbo said with a cheerful grin as Merry approached him.  
  
"Good morning, Uncle Bilbo," Merry answered. "Have you seen Frodo? He wasn't at breakfast and he's not in his room."  
  
Bilbo frowned. "No, lad, I haven't seen him yet. I assumed he was with you. Have you looked in the library?"  
  
"Yes. He wasn't there either." Merry drew a pattern in the dirt with his toe. He was starting to worry now. If Frodo weren't with Bilbo or himself, where would he be? Over the years he had grown to dislike the idea of Frodo wandering by himself with the likes of Bargo and Reginard about.  
  
"Shall we check the hayloft together?" Bilbo suggested as if reading Merry's thoughts. Merry nodded and they walked side by side down the path toward the barn in the distance. Upon reaching it, they found the doors open and the cats preening or chasing each other playfully.  
  
Merry made a beeline for the ladder and climbed it quickly. He was glad to see that it was standing in its proper place, propped against the edge of the hayloft. Motes of dust danced in the morning sunbeams and there were certainly no sleeping hobbits in the hay. "There isn't anyone here," Merry called down to Bilbo.  
  
"Where else should we look, lad?" Bilbo inquired. Merry knew all the places Frodo tended to go when he was looking for privacy, all the favorite crevices and corners a young hobbit lad could tuck himself into.  
  
"Let's try the river pool where I taught him to swim," Merry suggested. It was a little cool in the mornings for swimming lately, but the secluded spot was a good place to spend a quiet moment otherwise. "It's a nice place, and just as good for reading and being alone as it is for swimming." Bilbo nodded and they set off together in the direction of the pond.  
  
~*~The Bree road, morning~*~  
  
Warm. It felt good to be warm again as the morning sun stole over him. Frodo blinked and tried to clear the haze from his vision with only partial success. Two doses of the sleeping drug in one night had left him quite groggy, and he fervently hoped the men had run out of the dreadful potion. His eyes drooped shut again.  
  
Someone nudged him and the indifferent shove brought him back to his surroundings. "Wake up, little one. It's time to move on." Dolan shook Frodo lightly. "First, something to eat and then back on the road." He removed the gag and helped Frodo to a sitting position against a tree trunk.  
  
Frodo eyed the man warily, wondering whether any chance for escape would present itself. So far, neither of these Big Folk had truly harmed him, but that didn't keep him from feeling suddenly very small and very scared. He tugged at his bonds again, hoping against hope that they had somehow come loose in the night.  
  
"That won't help you any," Dolan said, shaking his head. "The only way you're getting loose is if we allow it. We're still a couple of days out from Bree, and the journey will be easier for you if you cooperate," he suggested. "You're going whether you behave or not, halfling."  
  
Frodo remained silent. He really didn't feel like having a conversation with either of these men. The only thing he wanted to hear them say was that they were taking him back where he belonged, and he doubted they would say anything of the sort. Then again, if he were to speak, perhaps they would realize that he was a person, rather than livestock to be sold at Market. What was it the man had called him? Halfling?  
  
"My name is Frodo," he said softly, not looking at the tall figure standing over him.  
  
"All right then, Frodo. You have a name and you want me to know it. Fair enough." The man gestured to his companion who was loading up the horses. "That's Fergus, and I'm Dolan. Not that it matters so much, as we're not going to spend enough time together to get to know each other very well."  
  
Frodo gathered his courage and forged ahead. "Do you really mean to just sell me to some stranger regardless of his purpose and simply walk away?" He searched the man's expression for some hint of compassion, some twinge of guilt that he might use to his advantage. He found none. The eyes that gazed back at him held no pity or remorse.  
  
"That's the idea," Dolan informed him. "I know what you're up to, and you might as well forget it," he said, his tone becoming colder. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I'm going to see what a helpless little thing you are and change my mind. We bought you intending to make a profit, and that's exactly what we're going to do with you."  
  
So much for that idea, Frodo thought bitterly. When a local farmer's dog had a litter of puppies, they were given away to good homes, and their new owners carefully chosen. It seemed the same courtesy was going to be denied him by these soulless men.  
  
Frodo was startled from his thoughts as Dolan began to unbind his hands. "Don't try anything foolish. I'm only doing this so you can eat and take care of any other necessary business before we leave," he explained. "I'll be watching the whole time, so any attempt to escape will be a waste of energy." He looked pointedly at Frodo. "Besides which, Fergus has a bit of a temper, so I advise you not to push him."  
  
Dolan left Frodo's hands free, but tethered him to the tree by wrapping a length of rope around his midsection. He produced a plate with a sparse breakfast of some cooked meat and bread and a flask of water. Frodo ate in silence. It wasn't especially good fare, but it would help him keep his strength up.  
  
After allowing Frodo to finish eating, Dolan released the rope that bound him to the tree and unbound his ankles. He pulled Frodo to his feet and marched him a short distance away from the camp into the forest to relieve himself, keeping a firm grip on the back of the hobbit's collar all the while.  
  
When they arrived back at the campsite, Fergus had stowed most of the gear and the horses stood ready. Frodo began to feel his fear rising again as he realized they were about to take him even farther from home and all that he had ever known.  
  
Home. Now there was a curious concept. Did he really have a home to be taken from? The idea of home brought to mind a space of one's own warmed by cherished memories and shared with one's closest loved ones. When Frodo thought of the Hall, the only things that came to mind were the crowded, cavernous dining room, and the courtyard where he couldn't even read in peace without being tripped over by someone.  
  
Wherever he was, he always seemed to be in the way. No one said as much within his hearing, but he could see the irritated looks they gave him. Brandy Hall was Merry's home, but it would never truly be Frodo's. Even so, it was strange to be away from it, on this unfamiliar road that led to places he had never seen.  
  
Frodo had always been curious about the world outside the Shire and had listened with eagerness to the stories of those few who had ventured past its safe, familiar borders. He had longed to see it for himself, but not like this.  
  
Dolan was binding his hands again, and Frodo began to fight him, pulling away in dread and terror. "No! Can't you see what you're doing is wrong?" he cried as he twisted in Dolan's grasp.  
  
Fergus stopped loading the horses and strode over to slap him squarely across the face. "Don't give us any of yer lip, little thing. The folk who'll be wantin' to buy ye from us won't care if ye 'ave some bruises on that pretty face o' yours." He leaned closer and his eyes narrowed. "Like as not, they'll put some marks on ye themselves," he said ominously.  
  
The blow had indeed stilled the young hobbit momentarily, and a red mark showed against his pale skin where the man had struck him. Fergus' words chilled him thoroughly as he thought of all they could mean.  
  
In the next moment, Frodo was lifted onto one of the horses, and Fergus was settling himself behind him. "Ye're kinda small fer one o' yer kind, ain't ye?" The man ruffled Frodo's hair condescendingly. "Ye ain't even all the way grown, I'll wager."  
  
"Would it matter if I said I wasn't?" Frodo said quietly. He doubted that it would matter to the men that the one they held against his will was really a mere youth.  
  
"I don't reckon ye'll be sayin' much of anythin' fer now," Fergus responded as he tied the gag back in place. "Just sit still an' we won't have to knock ye out again."  
  
Not having much choice in the matter, Frodo complied. He wondered miserably if anyone had even noticed that he was gone. The only two who might have were Merry and Bilbo, and Frodo wanted nothing more than to see them again.  
  
~*~Buckland, early afternoon~*~  
  
Bilbo and Merry found the swimming pond as deserted as the barn had been. The elder hobbit's face was lined with worry as he gazed at the still water sparkling in the sunshine. It was now past luncheon and it would take most of another hour to walk back to the Hall. He made up his mind to talk to Sara if Frodo hadn't turned up on his own by the time they got back.  
  
Visions of Frodo lying injured from some accident sprang to mind, and were followed by more chilling images as Bilbo recalled his conversation with Frodo the day before. Those older lads were up to no good, and it was plain that Frodo was their preferred target. If they were responsible for any harm to Frodo, he would see to it personally that they were punished severely.  
  
Ever since finding Frodo in the hayloft a few years ago, bruised and despondent after an encounter with the two, Bilbo had been entertaining thoughts of taking the lad home with him to Hobbiton. Every time he would work himself up to the point of being ready to make the suggestion, doubt would conquer him and he would hold back. What did he know about being the guardian of a tween?  
  
On the other hand, he seemed to have a better grasp of Frodo's state of mind than his current guardians. He could tell when Frodo was holding something in, and it seemed that more often than not these days that was the case. Tweens could certainly be moody, he reminded himself.  
  
But Frodo wasn't just any tween, he mused. There was something about him, a spirit that set him apart from all of the others at the Hall. If Bilbo had ever had a son, he would have hoped that the lad would have that special something, that spark that endured all adversity to shine through in bursts of brilliant light.  
  
Bilbo hadn't spoken his thoughts yet, but the idea of doing so weighed more heavily upon him with each visit he made to the Hall. The obvious loneliness and pain he had seen in Frodo's young face during their discussion in the library several years back had gone straight to his heart. If the events that he had heard about continued to be commonplace, he doubted that he could hold back much longer.  
  
He and Merry exchanged anxious glances and walked in silence back up the path, toward the Hall and hopefully, an answer to the question of Frodo's whereabouts.  
  
~*~The Bree Road~*~  
  
"Fergus! Someone's coming!" Dolan sounded the alarm, hearing the sound of hoofbeats a distance behind them. "Let's get off the road. We can't be caught with a captive halfling in plain blasted sight!"  
  
Frodo felt Fergus' arm tighten around his waist uncomfortably as the horse left the road and they plunged into the cover of the trees. He wondered how much noise he might be able to make through the gag. Would the other folk on the road be able to hear him?  
  
The thought ended abruptly as Fergus threatened, "One peep an' I'll thump ye senseless!" Frodo hadn't forgotten the slap earlier and he didn't doubt the ruffian would keep his promise.  
  
"Don't ye even move, I'm warnin' ye," Fergus hissed. The threat was completely unnecessary, as Frodo couldn't move against the man's grasp if he tried. Dolan rode up next to them, keeping his horse remarkably still as the other travelers rode past their hiding place.  
  
"This could be a long trip if we have to keep ducking into the trees," Dolan observed. He addressed Frodo directly. "You had better be worth all this trouble," he said, looking directly into the diminutive prisoner's eyes. As those eyes began to swim with unshed tears, he looked away. This was business, nothing more. So what if the little thing was frightened?  
  
When the road was well clear of the other travelers, the men urged their horses out of the trees and onward toward their destination. As the afternoon wore on, they met no one else. It wouldn't have mattered if they had, Frodo realized glumly. They would just hide him among the trees, away from the eyes of anyone who might be inclined to help him. They would keep him bound and gagged in silence, unable to call attention to his predicament.  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~  
  
Bilbo paused in the courtyard to rest and smoke his pipe, and Merry continued on his way into the Hall. Hunger and worry gnawed at him as he made his way to his father's study. He hoped his father was alone so they could talk privately for a few minutes.  
  
Fortunately, the door to the Master's study was open and Saradoc was the only occupant of the room. He smiled when Merry entered, but the smile faded to a look of concern when he saw his son's expression. "Merry, what troubles you, lad?" he asked quietly.  
  
"It's Frodo," Merry answered. "Uncle Bilbo and I have looked everywhere for him and we can't seem to find him."  
  
Saradoc sighed. "He hasn't been about all day then?" Merry shook his head. "You know how he tends to wander off by himself, lad. Sometimes all the noise and bustle becomes a bit much for him, I suspect." He allowed the smile to return to his face. "I'm sure he'll turn up in time for supper. You cannot keep a tween from the table, after all."  
  
Merry frowned. "What if he's fallen and got hurt? What if Bargo and Reginard have done something to him?" Merry spoke urgently, his voice betraying his growing concern. "We have to find him, Da."  
  
"Now, Merry, there's no need to seek trouble where there's naught to be found," Saradoc said soothingly. "Frodo has not said a word about any trouble with Bargo and Reginard in a great while. I'm certain that Frodo has just slipped away on his own to find a little peace and quiet. You know he seems to need it from time to time, and we should allow him to seek it." He placed a hand on Merry's shoulder and guided him toward the door. "Give him a little more time yet, lad. He'll come home."  
  
Merry wanted to believe his father's words, but Frodo had been gone all day! Merry couldn't shake the feeling that something just wasn't right, and his talk with his father had done nothing to ease his worry. "Don't you care if Frodo's gone?" he blurted tactlessly.  
  
Saradoc was visibly taken aback. "Of course, I care! Meriadoc, what kind of a question is that?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Da." Merry looked at his toes. "I'm just worried, that's all."  
  
Saradoc's tone softened once again. "We all care about Frodo, lad. He's a youngster of a different sort, and a little hard to pin down. I'm sure you understand that even better than I." Merry did understand. Nobody at Brandy Hall knew Frodo as well as he did.  
  
"I've just never seen him go off on his own for a whole day without a word to me or anyone else, Da," Merry explained. It pained him that Frodo would neglect to say something to him. Wasn't he Frodo's closest friend? Why wouldn't Frodo tell him where he was off to?  
  
"Frodo's not a child anymore, Merry." Saradoc looked thoughtfully at his son. "In a few years, you'll be a tween too, and you'll be wanting more independence and personal space, just as Frodo is now."  
  
He smiled, remembering what it was like to be a tween. It was a wonderful, but sometimes frustrating stage in a young hobbit's life when the desire to control one's own environment to some degree often met with resistance from elders who refused to see the maturity of the young one. He realized with a start that Merry was already showing signs of that frustration and a growing tendency toward independent thought and action. It couldn't be helped any more than seasons could be kept from changing. His lad was growing up.  
  
"I suppose you're right about Frodo wanting his space," Merry conceded. "I just wish he had said something so I wouldn't worry."  
  
"You're a good friend to Frodo and he's well aware of that fact," Saradoc told his son. "When he gets back, let him know you were worried. I'm sure he'll be contrite and promise never to do it again."  
  
"He'd better," Merry said grumpily, and wandered away toward the dining hall.  
  
~*~To Be Continued~*~ 


	8. The Search Begins

TTTurtle - There are a lot of things that could happen when Frodo reaches Bree - both good and bad.  
  
Aelfgifu - Glad you liked Saradoc and Merry's little talk. Merry is a bit peevish about the fact that nobody but he and Bilbo think Frodo's absence is a problem.  
  
Krista - Thank you for your kind words yet again! I'm glad you like the new characters. They'll be around in the next few chapters and in a few more, we'll introduce another new one.  
  
Trust No One - Agonizing indeed! The main reason Bargo and Reginard haven't fallen under any serious suspicion is that everyone thinks they've stopped tormenting Frodo. In fact, they never stopped, but instead just intimidated Frodo into keeping it to himself. Poor lad!  
  
FantasyFan - Don't worry on Merry's account! Giving up is the farthest thing from his mind. And Bilbo - he's peeved. Read on!  
  
Aratlithiel - I did add more to chapter 7 since you saw it, especially the part with Saradoc and Merry's discussion. More suspense ahead!  
  
Endymion - We'll just have to see how long it will be before Bargo and Reginard start bragging! Right now, nobody has any idea where Frodo is, though.  
  
Lotrseer3350 - Good comments and concerns in your review. To answer your question, there are some things I just won't let happen to Frodo, and you can read on with the assurance that our dear lad will not have to deal abuse of a sexual nature in this fic.  
  
Merryfrodolover - Thanks for joining us! To tell the truth, I don't have the final chapters completed yet. I'm working my way into the move to Hobbiton right now, and I do hope to have Frodo and Merry maintain what closeness they can despite the distance. If there isn't much in this story with an older Merry and Frodo, that might give rise to a sequel. You never know about those plotbunnies!  
  
Ilmare - Welcome! Thanks for your review. Those bullies do need a smack and a little decency wouldn't hurt the Big Folk either!  
  
Daisy Brambleburr - Your story will gain more reviews, I'm sure! I feel very fortunate that everyone has been so generous here so far. Do you hear that, everyone? Daisy has a new fic! I just read the summary and it looks good! As to some of your speculations, you're on the right track, but no rangers. There are good folk in Bree as well as bad, though!  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - I'm glad you liked the description of Merry looking in the library. I worked in libraries all through my college years, and I was just remembering what they were like early in the morning before the students crowded in. Let's see if we can't talk Saradoc into doing something, shall we?  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 8 - The Search Begins  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, evening~*~  
  
Afternoon tea had passed and supper had ended without any sign of Frodo. Bilbo strode purposefully down the hall, headed for Saradoc's study. He fully intended to demand that a thorough search be undertaken, and the sooner the better.  
  
The Master of Buckland was seated behind his writing desk scratching away with a quill pen at a ledger as a thin wisp of smoke curled upward from his pipe. He looked up and smiled as Bilbo rapped on the doorframe with one knuckle to get his attention.  
  
"Bilbo, come in! Please, make yourself comfortable." Saradoc rose from behind the desk, and took a chair next to the one Bilbo had chosen. "You look like you've something on your mind."  
  
"Indeed I do, Sara." Bilbo's voice lacked its usual humor and crispness. "Rather, I have someone on my mind."  
  
"Hmmm, yes. Frodo." Saradoc tapped his pipe against his knee and regarded Bilbo levelly. "Merry has already voiced his concern with his absence." He stopped tapping the pipe and laid it down on the desktop instead. "Do you mean to tell me he hasn't made an appearance yet?" Saradoc had been working in his study for most of the day and had taken his supper there as well. "Frodo must indeed be troubled by something to stay away by himself for this long," he said, considering.  
  
"He does this kind of thing often then?" Bilbo was not surprised that Frodo would like to have some time alone every now and then, but the idea of him disappearing for hours on end without leaving word seemed unlike the boy. Merry thought so too, and who at Brandy Hall knew Frodo's habits better?  
  
"No, not often, but there have been other incidents," Saradoc informed him. "He once fell asleep while reading in the shade and he didn't come in until well after dark. He was hungry for having missed his supper and a bit embarrassed, but none the worse for wear." Saradoc shook his head. "He's such a quiet one, it's a battle trying to get him to open up about anything that might be weighing on him," he explained, gesturing impatiently.  
  
"And what would be weighing on the lad, Sara?" Bilbo said, his gaze steadily holding that of the Master of the Hall. "The fact that the other lads, particularly the older ones, seem to be targeting him for all manner of abuse, or perhaps the fact that the adults fail to notice?" He continued briskly before Saradoc could get a word in. "Indeed, it seems he escapes the notice of most of you rather easily, unless he's in trouble of one kind or another."  
  
"Now, Bilbo, I think that's a little dramatic, don't you?" Saradoc's voice was even and measured. "Frodo hasn't spoken of any more trouble with those boys since that incident a few years ago. They were dealt with, and the matter is closed." He spread his hands out before him in a gesture of finality. "Frodo keeps to himself by and large, and speaks very little of what he thinks or feels. Our Merry is one of the very few who can get him to talk about things."  
  
"Yes, Merry is Frodo's closest companion, it's true," Bilbo conceded. "And Merry should know when something about Frodo's behavior is out of the ordinary, such as his absence today." He rose and began to pace to and fro. "He has been gone far too long without word, and I want a search to be commenced."  
  
"A search, mobilizing the entire Hall? Surely that would be overreacting at this point, Bilbo." Saradoc spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "A lad his age will follow his impulses to the exclusion of logic, and if he feels the impulse to disappear for the better part of the day, nothing I can do will keep him from it."  
  
"So you think he's just out there enjoying himself and he'll be turning up abashed and hungry at midnight?" Bilbo said, his voice filled with disbelief.  
  
"That may very well be the case, Bilbo." Saradoc resumed his chair behind the writing desk. "I don't think it's necessary to commence a search just yet. Besides, it's getting dark out. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll turn up."  
  
Bilbo favored him with a sour look. "If it were Merry, would you wait then?" His voice was perhaps a little sharper than he had intended, but the thought would not be left unspoken.  
  
"That is an unfair question, Bilbo, and you know it!" Saradoc pointed the quill pen at Bilbo and continued, "You know that Merry is a sensible lad and not given to dashing off on his own in such a manner. If he were to do so, it would certainly be cause for concern."  
  
"To each his own concern, Sara," Bilbo said bitterly. "My concern is Frodo." He placed his palms upon the desktop and leaned closer to Saradoc, choosing his words with care. "And my concern is growing daily. I'm beginning to think Brandy Hall is a less than suitable environment for him."  
  
"And you suggest something else? Bag End, perhaps?" Saradoc's eyes narrowed as they met Bilbo's. "You are suggesting that you would be a more fit guardian for Frodo than Esmie and I?" He shook his head. "Bilbo, you have no experience in raising children. Esmie and I look after any number of young lads and lasses who are fostered here in pursuit of a trade. They can be quite a handful at times, especially the tweens."  
  
"That is my point exactly, Sara. There are so many of them here, and there isn't any possibility that you and Esmie can run the Hall and spend time with all of them." Bilbo's tone had begun to soften somewhat. "Frodo needs someone who will be able to spend time with him, and who will listen when he needs to talk. He needs space of his own, a place where he feels safe and loved. I can give him those things, Sara."  
  
"There's no use deciding his fate in his absence, Bilbo," Saradoc responded tiredly. "Let us wait to discuss such matters until he has returned from his wanderings. This is not something to be rushed into, I'm sure you agree."  
  
"Oh, yes. I do agree," Bilbo said. "If I were at all inclined to rush this particular matter, Frodo would have been at Bag End years ago, not wandering about Eru knows where!" Frustrated and angry, Bilbo was ready to end the conversation for the present. Even so, Frodo had better show up soon, or Bilbo would organize the search himself.  
  
"Peace, Bilbo! I assure you, I share your concern for Frodo. If he doesn't wander in soon, we shall go and find him. He has always returned in his own good time, and I believe he will do so again," Saradoc stated matter - of - factly.  
  
"Let us hope, for his sake, that you are correct," Bilbo said, and showed himself to the door. The meeting had gone less productively than he had hoped, and he felt at a loss for the moment. He was growing more and more certain that he must act, and soon, if he wanted to prevent Frodo from suffering serious consequences for the lack of attention he received at the Hall.  
  
~*~The Bree Road, evening~*~  
  
"We'll stop here for the night," Dolan said as they rode into a clearing a short distance off the main road. They had ridden all through the day, and Frodo was tired and dusty. He had nearly nodded off several times during the journey, but every time he was on the verge of sleep, he would be jostled back to awareness by a sudden change in the gait of the horse, or by Fergus' arm tightening around his midsection. He was almost certain Fergus had squeezed him on purpose, just to see him jump.  
  
Fergus lifted him up and passed him down to Dolan. His legs felt weak from disuse and his arms ached from being held behind him for hours on end. Dolan guided him as he stumbled away from the horses to where the packs and bedrolls had been piled. He was deposited on the ground next to the packs, as if he himself were no more than mere baggage.  
  
Dolan removed Frodo's gag and began digging in one of the packs. He pulled out a water flask and held it to the hobbit's lips, tilting it back so he could drink. "Not much farther now," he commented idly. "Another day and a half or so, if we make good time, two days if we don't." Frodo didn't respond. "Ever been to Bree, halfling?" Dolan asked him.  
  
"No. I've never been anywhere," Frodo said wearily. He noted that the men had yet to use his name, although he had given it to them. It was unlikely that he would hear it uttered by either of them, since saying it would make him someone. Eru forbid they should suddenly discover that their captive had a soul and sensibilities.  
  
"We'll, that's no surprise," Dolan said with a chuckle. "You Shire Folk aren't much for traveling, are you?"  
  
For some reason Frodo found the question rather irritating. "My uncle has traveled quite far," he replied. "He's been all the way to Mirkwood and back, and other places besides." He was willing to bet that Bilbo had traveled farther abroad than either of the men.  
  
"That so? Your uncle too busy traveling to look after you?" Dolan said, his voice betraying no emotion. Frodo couldn't tell if the man was genuinely curious or merely baiting him for the sake of amusement.  
  
"My uncle is not my guardian," Frodo said blandly. He volunteered nothing further, not wishing to discuss the people he loved and missed with one who kept him from them. He was almost relieved when the conversation was interrupted by Fergus, returning from settling the horses for the night.  
  
His relief was short - lived however, as the man grabbed his arms and hauled him over to a nearby tree. He settled Frodo against it and began to bind him securely against the trunk. "That oughtta hold ye," he commented as he gave the knots a final tug. "Can't 'ave ye wanderin' off, now can we?"  
  
The man's lilting accent lent an air of mirth to his voice, making him sound as if he found Frodo's situation somehow amusing. Frodo was increasingly unimpressed by what passed for Fergus' sense of humor and he looked away angrily.  
  
"That's an awful big frown fer such a little face," the man quipped, chucking Frodo under the chin. "I'm beginnin' to think ye don't like us or somethin'."  
  
"I don't," Frodo said simply.  
  
The comment brought a loud burst of laughter from the man. When he had recovered sufficiently, he prodded Frodo sharply with a forefinger. "Oh, but I could get to like ye, and I have some friends who'd like ye too." Fergus stood up and walked back over to unload more items from the packs.  
  
"D'ye hear that, Dolan? 'E don't like us, 'e says." Fergus gestured toward Frodo. "I say we keep 'im fer ourselves. We could make a tidy sum off 'im, an' 'e can keep us company as well," the man said, quirking his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"Aww, piss off, Fergus," Dolan groused. "I'm not about to take on another mouth to feed, whether he's earning his keep or not." He punctuated the statement by tossing an apple at Fergus, who caught in neatly. "Besides, I know you're just saying those things to rile him up."  
  
"Maybe I am an' maybe I ain't," Fergus replied, crunching on the apple. "It's a spot o' fun makin' 'im wonder innit?"  
  
"We didn't take him on for fun," Dolan reminded him rather sternly. "If we want to get our money's worth for him, it would be to our best advantage to leave off," he warned, looking sternly at his cohort.  
  
Frodo had heard enough of the conversation to know he didn't want to hear any more. Eru, but these two were almost enough to make him miss Bargo and Reginard! At least their behavior was predictable. Well, mostly predictable. Frodo had never dreamed they'd go so far as to do this to him.  
  
Despite his discomfort, Frodo began to give in to his weariness, and he closed his eyes. Dolan walked away from the clearing to heed the call of nature, and Frodo was startled back to alertness by Fergus' voice almost at his ear.  
  
"Y'know what I said 'bout thinkin' we oughtta keep ye?" He paused, twirling one of Frodo's curls between his fingers. "I meant it."  
  
Frodo's eyes popped open wide at that statement, and remained that way well into the night.  
  
~*~Morning, Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~  
  
Bilbo had barged into Saradoc's study before breakfast and demanded that the search begin in earnest. When Frodo had not appeared at supper the previous evening, it had been too dark to begin looking again. In a way, Bilbo had enjoyed the look on Saradoc's face when the news reached him. Upon hearing that Frodo had still not returned during the night, he had actually paled somewhat and managed to appear rather concerned.  
  
Most of the adults and tweens had spread out across the area, and were searching the nearby woods and fields, shouting Frodo's name. Merry's expression was one of thinly veiled anger and sorrow, and Bilbo placed a comforting hand on the lad's shoulder.  
  
"Merry, you're a good lad. Frodo couldn't ask for a better friend at the Hall," he praised the youngster next to him. "I must ask you something, and I need you to answer truthfully." Seeing that he had Merry's attention, Bilbo continued. "Has Frodo ever run away? Has he ever been gone this long without leaving word?"  
  
"No, Uncle Bilbo, he hasn't," Merry said gravely. "I can't lie and tell you that Frodo is always happy here," Merry said with a sad look at Bilbo. "What I can tell you is that Frodo isn't the kind to run away."  
  
Bilbo nodded. "I agree. I've never known Frodo to take flight. I've seen him bear far more than he should without giving back, but I've never seen him cut and run."  
  
"You really love Frodo a lot, don't you Uncle Bilbo?" Merry asked quietly.  
  
"I do indeed, Meriadoc," he replied rather wistfully. "When Frodo was born, it was quite an event," Bilbo said, smiling at the memory. "Drogo and Prim wanted a child so badly, and it was years before Frodo arrived. They were beginning to think it wasn't to be."  
  
Bilbo remembered the exciting news of Frodo's birth and how the proud father had been awed by his first glimpse of the tiny babe that looked up at him with enormous blue eyes. Frodo had been very small when he was born, but very strong and healthy.  
  
"They were good parents, Merry. They loved Frodo with all their hearts and their every thought was for him." Bilbo's voice betrayed his sadness as he spoke. "Their passing was so unexpected, and nothing had been planned for Frodo in the case of something happening."  
  
"So he came to Brandy Hall," Merry finished. "Frodo doesn't talk about it very much, and I don't ask him," he said quietly. "I know he feels somehow different from the rest of us and he's lonely sometimes."  
  
Merry sighed, feeling rather stung as he thought of Frodo running away from the Hall. Didn't Frodo have any idea how much it would hurt Merry if he did? Merry pushed the thought away, feeling selfish for ever entertaining it. It didn't matter what he felt right now. It only mattered that they find Frodo and find him safe.  
  
They searched long into the day and by evening, everyone was tired, hungry and thirsty. Supper was served amid the clatter of utensils and murmur of bits of speculative conversation. Merry tried to close himself off from it so he wouldn't have to hear the same statements again and again.  
  
"I knew it would happen sooner or later," someone was saying. "He's bolted, if you ask me," another voice declaimed.  
  
"Wastin' their time out lookin' for the stupid little rat. It's almost funny." Reginard's voice reached Merry's ears and he clenched his fists so tight it hurt. He rose from his chair and walked to the table where Reginard and Bargo were lounging with some other boys.  
  
"Why, Reginard?" Merry said, his voice hard.  
  
"Why what, Brandybrat?" The older lad shot back, eyeing Merry as if he were some kind of insect. "Don't you have something important to do like hunting for that runaway cousin of yours?"  
  
"Why have you been so hateful to Frodo? If Frodo ran away, it was your doing!" Merry accused. "Why did you have to make him suffer like that? What did he ever do to you, anyway?"  
  
Bargo jumped in. "Your precious cousin was a burden to everyone around him, Brandybuck. You know he was a worthless twit and nobody wanted him around anyway. They're all out looking for him because they just don't want your pa to know they don't care."  
  
Merry was furious. "If anyone should know about being worthless, Bargo, it's you! Did you really come to the Hall to learn a trade, or did your parents just send you here to be rid of you?"  
  
Reginard stood and began to reach across the table to grab Merry's weskit. Merry was faster, though. He wrapped his hand around a mug on the table and threw its contents directly into the older lad's sneering face.  
  
"You're pond scum, Brandybuck," Reginard snarled. "You'd best be watching your back, 'cause you're mine now."  
  
Merry ignored the threat and turned on his heel, leaving Reginard sputtering in rage. He would be sure to catch it for that stunt he'd just pulled, but he couldn't help himself. He wasn't a half - pint lad anymore, and he wasn't afraid to stand up to Reginard and Bargo. He wished he'd decked them both on the spot for the things they'd said about Frodo.  
  
Across the room, Bilbo looked on in silence. He hadn't been able to hear any of the conversation, but he knew there were only a few things that could make Merry so angry. One of them was someone insulting or trying to harm Frodo. He locked gazes with the tweens and gave them a look that said, 'I'm watching you, and don't you forget it.'  
  
The boys looked back at him haughtily, as if daring him to do something about them and their behavior. What ever happened to respecting your elders? They'd learn some respect if Bilbo had anything to do with it.  
  
~*~ To be continued~*~ 


	9. Shelter From the Storm

QTPie 2488 - That's the trouble with each chapter - they end! Merry stood up to those two with true Brandybuck spirit, didn't he?  
  
Krista - I'm sure Bilbo wouldn't mind if you lent him a hand in teaching Bargo and Reginard a little respect!  
  
Aelfgifu - Glad you liked the conversation between Bilbo and Saradoc. A lot of things needed to be said!  
  
Aratlithiel - I don't know whether Bargo and Reginard are worse than Dolan and Fergus. They're all in need of a smack upside the head, if you ask me!  
  
Endymion - You described Saradoc very well when you said he seems to be someone with a lot of responsibilities to shoulder and no time to deal with things that aren't serious. Well, he's got something serious to deal with now, hasn't he?  
  
TTTurtle - Yes, Frodo is old enough to understand what Fergus is insinuating. Whether he's kidding just to scare Frodo or not, it's doing the job.  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Merry was most certainly fuming. No doubt about it!  
  
Daisy Brambleburr - Reginard did deserve what he got, and a lot more besides. There are good people in Bree as well as bad ones, and we'll just have to hope Frodo meets some of the good ones!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 9 - Shelter From the Storm  
  
~*~Bree Road, nightfall~*~  
  
The second full day on the road had been nightmarish in Frodo's opinion. He had spent the entire previous night sitting upright, bound to the tree. His tattered nerves kept him awake for much of the time, his imagination running full bore as Fergus' words played through his head again and again. He didn't know which would be the worse fate - being sold like an inanimate object or becoming the 'personal property' of these two ruffians.  
  
Sleep seemed a distant memory. The last true, restful slumber Frodo remembered had been rudely interrupted and ended with him bound and in the hands of these uncaring Big Folk. From the sound of things, it might be a long while before such a simple comfort as a good night's rest would be allowed him again.  
  
"Oy, but this road's a poxy excuse," Fergus grumbled. It had been Dolan's turn to ride with Frodo in his care, and as the young hobbit was handed down into Fergus' hands, he was dismayed to find himself being squeezed a little tighter and a little longer than necessary.  
  
Frodo fought the embrace instinctively, but it only tightened further. "Stop yer twitchin', lil' thing," Fergus ordered. "I've a feelin' ye better git used to cuddlin' up close like." Frodo tried to keep from trembling.  
  
Dusk was approaching swiftly, and with it a change in the weather. The wind had picked up and carried a noticeably damp chill, and Frodo felt it keenly through the thin shirt he wore. Reginard and Bargo hadn't thought to include Frodo's cloak in the bargain.  
  
"The road may be a sight worse by morning, Fergus," Dolan observed as he scanned the darkening sky. "We've got rain coming, I'll warrant. Let's get to work." The ritual of setting up camp began, but not before Frodo was made secure again. They mercifully allowed him to lie down this time, still bound hand and foot, and he dozed off and on as the men went about their business. The first drops of rain fell as the men got the fire burning.  
  
Dolan was searching the bundles and packs the horses had been carrying. "Where's the tent, Fergus?" They had been in the habit of carrying a large piece of heavy, water - resistant fabric that could be stretched out over tree branches to act as a makeshift tent of sorts. It didn't appear to be among their gear at present.  
  
"Use yer eyes an' ye might find it," Fergus quipped insolently.  
  
"You packed the gear. You forgot it, didn't you?" Dolan shook his head in utter disgust. "I'm going to be loading the gear from now on, Fergus. That's the last time I let you forget the tent for remembering the ale." Fergus liked his pints well enough, and he had indulged in a few prior to stowing the gear for the trip, the result being the now glaring omission of the tent.  
  
Frodo spoke before he could stop himself. "The trees."  
  
"What's that, halfling?" Dolan asked, moving to kneel where Frodo lay.  
  
"The trees can provide shelter," Frodo said as he shivered. "Fallen limbs, twigs and leaves. We used to build shelters as children, as a game." He only shared the information with them because he didn't want to spend the night in the rain. He didn't care if the men were worse off for exposure to the elements.  
  
"So you know how to keep the rain off your back, do you?" Dolan had the grace to look surprised, perhaps even impressed. "You might prove useful yet, halfling."  
  
He walked a few paces away to where their gear was piled, and Frodo's eyes widened as the man drew a sword from its scabbard. The hobbit swallowed hard as Dolan stood over him with the gleaming blade. "You're going to help us get some shelter up around us before that storm gets here."  
  
Fergus drew a small, sharp knife from his boot and severed Frodo's bonds. "Yer workin' with me," he said as he pulled Frodo to his feet. Frodo felt the stirrings of hope within him. Were they going to allow him to remain unbound? His hopes were dashed when, a moment later, Fergus tied one end of a long rope around Frodo's wrists, binding them in front. The other end was made fast to the sturdy leather belt at the man's waist.  
  
Dolan lead the way, his sword in hand, and Fergus followed with Frodo in tow. Once deep enough in the woods to start collecting the necessary materials, the work commenced with Fergus collecting longer branches and laying them across Frodo's outstretched arms. When he had loaded the little hobbit up with all he could carry, Fergus collected his own armful of branches. Dolan used his sword to hack sections of leafy underbrush away until he carried a large heap of them. Several trips in and out of the wood were made and the raw materials of a shelter were gathered in the camp.  
  
Frodo gestured with his hands toward a couple of larger trees nearby. The trees had thick limbs stretching out low to the ground. "You use the longer branches to brace against the tree limbs." Frodo grasped a long, thick branch with both hands and wrestled it into place. A few minutes later, a makeshift wall of branches leaned at an angle against the tree limbs, creating an area that was somewhat sheltered from the wind.  
  
With the help of the men, Frodo leaned more branches against the others at the opposite angle, creating a space under a peaked roof. The work was taking longer than it would have if they had allowed him his freedom. The shelter so far was long and narrow, but would fit all three of them well enough. They began to fill in the spaces with smaller branches, then arranged the leafy bush cuttings over all as further protection. Fergus and Dolan completed the part of the roof that was too high for Frodo to reach.  
  
"If you throw a thick layer of leaves over all of it, you'll stay warm and dry despite the rain," Frodo instructed. When the shelter was completed, he sank down to sit on the ground beside it, too tired to move further. The irony of helping to see to the comfort of the men who offered him none was a bitter thing for him to bear.  
  
The rain was beginning to fall in earnest now, and Frodo felt the droplets soaking through his shirt, chilling him. He shivered miserably and sneezed several times as Fergus unleashed him.  
  
"We'd better get him inside before he gets sick," Dolan said. "We won't get a decent offer on him if he's obviously unwell." Again, the statement of the practical, with no concern shown for the actual suffering of the subject of the conversation. Frodo was too weary to struggle against the hands that dragged him into the shelter and bound his ankles. He lay shivering in the shelter without the benefit of a blanket to cover him.  
  
After a while, he was joined by Dolan and Fergus, and allowed a ration of the simple meal they had prepared. The bedrolls were laid out on the ground and as Frodo hovered between sleep and waking, he felt fabric being laid over him.  
  
"Goin' soft on 'im, are ye, Dolan?" Fergus teased. "Smitten by 'is sweet lil' face, then?"  
  
"Shut it, Fergus," Dolan replied as he laid his cloak over Frodo's shivering body. "Like I said, he's no good to us if he catches his death out here."  
  
Frodo didn't hear Fergus' gibe or Dolan's response. He was already asleep along the back wall of the shelter, curled up under Dolan's cloak. The rain poured down steadily, but the shelter held and they passed the night as comfortably as they were able.  
  
~*~Bree Road, morning~*~  
  
Frodo stood in two inches of cold mud as Dolan readied the horses for the last leg of the trip. He had been shaken from his slumber early, before the sun had risen. The men were tired of staying outside in the cold, damp weather, and had decided to leave early with the goal of arriving in Bree that night.  
  
Frodo sneezed and slid in the mud, nearly falling but for Fergus' hands gripping his forearms. He winced as the fingers dug into his arms painfully.  
  
"One more day of this, and then a warm, dry inn," Dolan sounded relieved as he spoke.  
  
"A warm, dry inn an' a cold mug of ale," Fergus said with a grin. He gave Frodo a shake. "Wanna have an ale wi' me, halfling?"  
  
"I'm not old enough to drink ale," Frodo mumbled. Even if that weren't true, he was sure he could find more pleasant drinking companions than his present company.  
  
"Aww, that's too bad. Cute, but too bad," Fergus teased. "Yer not too young fer drinkin' ale, lil' thing," he said, catching Frodo's gaze briefly. "Yer not too young fer a lotta things."  
  
Frodo caught his breath and held back tears with difficulty. If his prospective buyers were anything like Fergus, his future was to be miserable indeed. Best not to think about that, he decided. Besides, his head hurt. He sneezed again.  
  
Fergus lifted him up onto the horse and mounted, pulling Frodo tight against his chest. The men spurred the horses forward into the pre - dawn mist, making for their destination at a brisk pace, considering the condition of the road.  
  
Frodo tried to imagine the village of Bree. He'd heard there were other hobbits there, but would he see any of them? Would there be any chance that they would try to help him, or would he find they cared little for the plights of others? The men had mentioned an inn. What of the innkeeper? Frodo was hoping to attract the attention of someone, anyone who might intervene on his behalf. He held to the hope that someone out there would care what happened to him.  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, morning~*~  
  
Merry kicked angrily at a clump of grass along the path. It was all so wrong! How could Frodo just disappear without a trace? It didn't make sense. If Frodo had been so despondent that he wanted to run away, Merry thought he should have seen it coming, maybe recognized a sign of some kind.  
  
And everyone else was just as bad, if not worse. If everyone hadn't made Frodo feel so lost and alone all the time, he would probably still be there and all would be well. It irked Merry that he hadn't even been able to get his own father to take Frodo's absence seriously at first. Oh, everyone took it seriously now, since enough time had passed to make it obvious that something was amiss.  
  
Merry's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices nearby. He scowled and prepared to make a detour, not wanting to see or talk to anyone in his present mood. As he stepped off the path and into the trees, the voices became clearer.  
  
"You're full of it, Bargo," a voice rose in challenge. "You couldn't have pulled that off nohow."  
  
"You're wrong, Paddy. Look here." There was silence for a moment.  
  
"Where'd you get a gold coin, you weasel? You don't make any more than any other apprentice 'round here," Paddy observed.  
  
"I don't have just one, either. I've got ten, and so does Reg," Bargo crowed proudly. "I told you, we got 'em from the Big Folk down at the river."  
  
"You really expect me to believe that you got them to pay you twenty gold pieces for takin' Baggins off your hands?"  
  
Merry's eyes grew large and he listened intently, concealing himself behind a sturdy oak tree. Just what was he hearing? An image began to form in his mind as he listened. He imagined Frodo taken against his will to the ferry, and Reginard and Bargo walking away with coins jingling in their pockets. Rage began to build as he waited for his worst fears to be confirmed.  
  
"They gave us twenty gold coins for him, or I'm your sister," Bargo said, sounding immensely pleased with himself. "He's probably almost to Bree right now with his new friends."  
  
Bree! Merry's heart was beating frantically. The men had taken Frodo to Bree, and for what purpose? Merry was sure it couldn't be good. Something had to be done, and now! Trying to move silently, Merry hurried away toward the Hall to tell his father and Bilbo what he'd heard. They had to go to Bree and bring Frodo back!  
  
Once out of sight of Paddy and Bargo, he broke into a run and didn't stop until he reached his father's study. Saradoc and Bilbo were both inside, and having a very serious discussion from the look of things. This was more serious than anything else, Merry decided, and he burst through the door, out of breath and pouring out his story in a rush.  
  
"They sold him! They gave him to the Big Folk at the river and he's gone to Bree, and - " "Meriadoc Brandybuck, what's gotten into you?" Saradoc asked incredulously. "Bilbo and I were having a conversation, and I expect you to explain your interruption." He regarded his son sternly.  
  
"Slow down there, Merry lad," Bilbo said, guiding Merry to a chair. "Now what are you on about?"  
  
"They sold Frodo to the Big Folk, Uncle Bilbo! He's gone!" Merry's voice trembled slightly as he continued. "Bargo and Reginard got twenty gold coins from the men and they took Frodo to Bree. I heard Bargo say so."  
  
Bilbo's face went white and he stared mutely at Merry. Saradoc recovered first and regarded his son with disbelief. "Merry, that is absurd. Bargo is just telling tall tales as usual. There is no possible way that he and Reginard could have sold Frodo!"  
  
Bilbo wasn't so sure it was impossible. He had heard and seen things that were more absurd by far in his travels, and after the looks he had seen in the eyes of those two miscreants the evening before, he didn't doubt that they could get up to more than just simple garden - variety tween mischief. "Did you hear anything else, lad?" He said breathlessly.  
  
"No, Uncle. Nothing important." Merry's gaze met his father's. "You've got to go to Bree and bring him back, Da. You've got to save him!" Merry sounded as desperate as was possible for a lad his age.  
  
"Merry, I think you should have some tea and calm yourself. I will talk to Bargo and Reginard myself, but I am not mounting an expedition to Bree on the strength of a wild rumor." Merry looked as if he was going to protest, and Saradoc gave him a stern look. "See to it now, and let's have no more talk of this until we have more information."  
  
He shooed the protesting lad out the door and closed it, shaking his head. "What young lads won't dream up - " he stopped, seeing that Bilbo wasn't listening. "Bilbo?"  
  
Bilbo was staring ahead, unmoving, with a grim look on his face. If Saradoc had been looking at anything besides the old hobbit's expression, he would have seen that Bilbo's hands were shaking ever so slightly. Suddenly, Bilbo turned and strode purposefully toward the door of the study.  
  
"Bilbo, where are you going?" Saradoc asked, fearing he already knew the answer.  
  
"I'm going to Bree, Sara," Bilbo said, his voice cold as the Fell Winter. "I'm going to Bree, and when I find Frodo, I'm taking with me back to Bag End." He didn't wait for a reply, but walked down the hall in a cloud of barely restrained fury.  
  
A moment after Bilbo had passed, another door opened slowly, and a curly blonde head popped out. Merry looked up and down the corridor, and was relieved that his father hadn't emerged from the study to see him there. He stepped into the hallway and turned, running to follow Bilbo.  
  
Bilbo was going to Bree to rescue Frodo! "I'm coming with you, Uncle," Merry whispered to the silent hallway. He hadn't yet thought of how he'd manage it, but Merry was determined to be there for Frodo. He'd show his father what was just a wild rumor and what was the truth!  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	10. Hobbit For Sale

Ilmare - Bilbo has indeed taken matters into his own hands, and about time! There's a lot going on in this chapter, so I hope you're seated comfortably!  
  
Krista - Bilbo and Merry are finally on the trail as you said, and they are much better prepared for their journey than poor Frodo was. In this chapter, we'll finally get Frodo to Bree and see what fate has in store for him there.  
  
Endymion - Bargo doesn't have a lot of brains, does he? As for Frodo, we got us a hobbit for sale right here. Whether he's purchased by someone who's naughty or nice, he's not out of this yet. That's all I'm gonna say.  
  
Iorhael - I've been posting speedily lately. Are you caught up and all ready for this one? I just caught up on "Nasty Hobbitses", and for the first time I'm wishing Merry would show up!  
  
Where have the rest of you gone this weekend? I miss you! I know you'll be back, but I'm posting a little early to keep things moving. Besides, I'm excited about this chapter, and I just can't wait! ~Author grins~  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 10 - Hobbit For Sale  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, evening~*~  
  
Saradoc stood glowering down at the two lads seated before him in his study. "I want some answers, and I have reason to believe you can supply them," he ground out as Bargo and Reginard shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. "I think you know what happened to Frodo."  
  
"Us, Sir?" Reginard began to dissemble. "If I may ask, Sir, what makes you think we know anything?"  
  
Saradoc's eyes narrowed. "I'd advise you not to try out your attitude with me, lad." His tone was stern, his gaze unwavering. "Rumor has it you are responsible for Frodo's absence, by way of a deal you made with some of the Big Folk."  
  
Bargo maintained his silence, but Reginard laughed as if that were the greatest joke he had ever heard. "You heard what? That Bargo and I - " he laughed again, as if he simply couldn't contain himself. "Oh, that's rich. That's a good one, eh Bargo?"  
  
"'Tis indeed," Bargo said with a snicker. Reginard was so much better at this sort of thing, he decided. He would just let Reg do the talking and follow his lead.  
  
"That is all it had better be, boys." Saradoc regarded them suspiciously. "You have been responsible for harming Frodo in the past, and therefore I wouldn't put anything past you two, even something that sounds as ridiculous as this."  
  
"It is ridiculous, Sir," Reginard countered calmly. "We might have had a little fun with Frodo in the past, but we wouldn't do anything - "  
  
"Your brand of fun is not acceptable at Brandy Hall." Saradoc interrupted Reginard's defense handily. "If I find that you had anything to do with this, you will be packed off home to your families in the blink of an eye, do you understand me?"  
  
"Yes Sir," Bargo and Reginard said in unison. Nobody could prove anything. If judgment were to be passed against them on the strength of a mere rumor, everyone in the Hall had to be guilty of something, for rumor was rife among the large population.  
  
"I'll be watching you two, rest assured," Saradoc said by way of dismissal. "Now get back to your chores, and stay out of trouble. You're not such big lads that I cannot haul you off by your ears to the shed for a sound hiding."  
  
Bargo and Reginard filed out under the baleful glare of the Master of the Hall. Once safely in the corridor and beyond earshot of the study, Bargo allowed a sigh of relief to escape him. "Well, that was nice," he muttered.  
  
"Don't worry, Bargo. They can't prove we did anything. There are no witnesses, with Baggins gone."  
  
"What about Brandybrat?" Bargo asked. Merry was always looking at them with suspicion these days.  
  
"He doesn't know anything. He can suspect all he wants, but he didn't see anything happen."  
  
They walked on in silence for a few minutes, then Bargo asked, "You think those fellas will let Baggins go?"  
  
Reginard considered. "I don't know all that much about the Big Folk personally, Bargo, but I tend to doubt it. They paid for him, and they're not likely to just release him." A smirk crossed his face as another thought occurred to him. "They might find out how useless he his and ask for their money back, though."  
  
Unrepentant laugher echoed in the corridor as the two made their way back out of the hall to finish their chores for the day.  
  
~*~Near Bree, after nightfall~*~  
  
Their brief rest came to an end as Dolan approached Frodo and knelt down beside him. "Time to go, halfling," he said. "We'll arrive at the Bree gate in a short while." He paused, motioned to Fergus, then spoke to Frodo again. "When we get there, you will be asleep."  
  
Fergus poured the last of the clear liquid from the vial onto the cloth and handed it to Dolan. As the man reached out for him, Frodo pulled back. "Please, you don't have to use that!" he pleaded, looking up at Dolan. "I promise I will cooperate."  
  
"And I don't believe you," Dolan answered simply. "I think you're likely to try to get the gatekeeper's attention if we allow you to be awake when we get there." He nodded to Fergus who knelt behind Frodo and held him down.  
  
Frodo was speechless with terror. If he were carried through the Bree gate unconscious, he would have no chance to escape, and no idea where he would be when he woke up again.  
  
"This is it, halfling," Fergus said, grinning. "Ye'll be leavin' us soon, but ye ain't goin' home."  
  
Frodo tried to turn his head to avoid the hand that held the drug - soaked cloth, but his chin was caught in a firm grip and the hated scent overpowered him.  
  
Dolan held the cloth to Frodo's face for a long while to make sure it did the job. As the scent forced its way into his body, Frodo feared he would be rendered unconscious for a week as a result of such a dose. Very quickly, however, fear melted away along with light, sound and sensation. He slumped, leaden, into Fergus' arms.  
  
"That oughtta keep 'im outta trouble," Fergus muttered. Dolan mounted his horse and extended his arms to accept Frodo's limp form.  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, evening~*~  
  
Merry paced the floor of his room restlessly. How could he go about getting Bilbo to allow him to accompany him to Bree? It was out of the question to beg his father's permission, for the answer would surely be negative. He must think of a way to get Bilbo to believe that he had obtained permission to go along.  
  
He was just going to have to lie, and that was all there was to it. He sat down at his desk and began penning a note to his parents to explain his departure.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Dear Father and Mother,  
  
As Cousin Frodo's closest friend, I feel I should do something more to help him than just sit here and wait for Uncle Bilbo to return with news. Frodo and I have always looked out for each other, and this is no time for me to stop doing my duty by him. He would do as much for me without a moment's hesitation.  
  
Please don't be angry with Uncle Bilbo. I told him I had your permission to go, and he's not to blame for my decision. I will be safe with him, and will provide for myself along the way with the money I've saved from my chores. We will return with Frodo as quickly as we are able.  
  
I shall bear the consequences for my actions, and I take full responsibility for them.  
  
With love, Meriadoc.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Merry pulled a wooden box out from underneath the bed. There was not a great deal of money stowed there, but he had been diligent about saving his earnings. His father had taught him the value of money and how to manage it frugally. He would need such wisdom if he were to become Master of Buckland someday.  
  
He tucked away the entire contents of the box in a leather pouch and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his coat. He checked his pack to make sure he'd forgotten nothing of importance. He had extra clothing, some food items he had managed to liberate from the pantry, his cloak and bedroll. He was ready to go.  
  
There was still the problem of lending credibility to his statement that he had permission to make the journey. Bilbo was no fool, Merry knew. He could pry the truth out of Frodo without even exerting himself, but then again, Frodo was no good at lying. Merry smirked to himself. He had to think of something that would make Bilbo believe him.  
  
He thought about writing a brief message for Bilbo in his best imitation of his father's hand, but abandoned the idea. He wasn't very good at faking his father's handwriting, and Bilbo knew Saradoc's strong, slanted script almost as well as his own. What other evidence of approval could he come up with?  
  
That was it! His father's walking stick! He would catch it mightily for taking it, he was certain, but it was perfect. The finely carved staff with its brass - tipped ends was always with Saradoc whenever he went forth for anything longer than a brief stroll. What father would have his son embark on a journey of several days without a proper walking stick?  
  
Bilbo was to leave in the morning at first light, and Merry planned to be a step ahead of him. He would be waiting at the ferry when his uncle arrived and they would cross the Brandywine together. It would be a fine adventure!  
  
Merry sobered as he thought about the reason for the excursion. Those Big Folk had better not have hurt Frodo, he thought darkly. He would hate to be them when Bilbo showed up to face them. Bilbo had stolen treasure from dragons and slain Mirkwood spiders! He wasn't going to back down to any stupid ruffians, especially if they were holding Frodo captive.  
  
He lay down to sleep, but found himself wide awake and filled with anticipation. Sleep was slow in coming and fragile as a moth's wing. Merry dozed, not daring to fall into a deep slumber, lest he miss his opportunity to join Bilbo at the ferry.  
  
~*~Bree~*~  
  
Dolan and Fergus reined the horses to a stop before the large wooden gate, and dismounted. They stepped forward and Fergus thumped on the wood with his fist until a grizzled face appeared and glared at him through a square opening at roughly eye level.  
  
"State yer business," the gatekeeper ground out at him.  
  
"We must get to the Inn of the Prancing Pony," Dolan replied. He noted the gatekeeper's gaze as it lingered upon the still form of Frodo, still wrapped in his cloak. "My son is ill and I must get him inside and out of this foul night air," he dissembled, his confident voice quelling any suspicions on the part of the man behind the gate.  
  
Indeed, with his small form wrapped in the cloak and his feet concealed, Frodo looked much like a lad of nine or ten years. The gatekeeper was looking at Dolan with a hint of compassion now, as he opened the gate to admit the travelers.  
  
Once safely clear of the gate, Dolan and Fergus made for the inn. The streets were rather empty, as the hour was growing late and the last remnants of the storm were still lingering damply. The sign bearing the words "Inn of the Prancing Pony" swung fitfully in the wind, and a glow of lamplight spilled out of the windows into the street as the men made for the stables with their horses.  
  
Fergus paid for the stable space, telling the stableboy there would be no need for him to carry their gear up to their room, as they would see to it themselves. They didn't need anyone sniffing around their quarters and reporting the presence of a captive halfling.  
  
The door to the inn creaked open and they stepped inside, into the warmth, light and noise of the common room. The innkeeper, Barliman Butterbur, greeted them with solicitous cheer.  
  
"Good evenin', Masters. How might I be of service to ye?" He eyed them curiously, his gaze traveling from their muddied boots to their weary faces, then came to rest on the unconscious hobbit Dolan held cradled in his arms.  
  
"We need a room, please. It's just the two of us and the boy." Dolan continued his ploy of passing Frodo off as a human child. "We ask that we not be disturbed, as the lad has been ill and needs rest," he said quietly.  
  
"Of course, of course," Butterbur shuffled about busily behind the desk and produced a key. "Upper floor, at the end of the hall. It's a little quieter there." He peered at Frodo again. "Poor lad, I hope he's feeling better soon," he said, shaking his head.  
  
"He should be quite all right with a little rest," Dolan replied, as Fergus hefted their packs, one over each arm. They climbed the stairs and found the room at the end of a short, narrow corridor.  
  
Their quarters were sparsely furnished with a wooden table and two chairs, and two beds. Dolan busied himself lighting a fire on the hearth as Fergus bound Frodo to one of the chairs. The chair was sized for a man rather than a hobbit, and Frodo's legs stuck out stiffly over the edge rather than bending at the knees. "Gag him while you're at it, Fergus," Dolan instructed. "We don't need him letting everyone in the place know he's here when that stuff wears off."  
  
Fergus tied the cloth over Frodo's mouth, and stood looking at the sleeping captive. It was a shame to sell him off. He was a sweet - looking little imp though, and Fergus didn't doubt they could get someone to pay handsomely for him. They would start asking around in the morning, and by evening they expected to be a good deal wealthier than they were at the moment.  
  
~*~Bucklebury Ferry, Buckland, pre - dawn~*~  
  
Merry shifted anxiously from one foot to the other as he waited in the near darkness just before daybreak. He had slipped out of the Hall unnoticed, after leaving his note in his father's study and liberating the walking stick. He leaned on it impatiently now, wondering how long it would be before Bilbo came up the path.  
  
As it was, he didn't have long to wait. Bilbo rounded a curve in the path and stopped short when he beheld Merry, walking stick in one hand and pack in the other, standing ready to board the ferry.  
  
"Meriadoc, just where do you think you're going?" Bilbo said suspiciously.  
  
"I'm going to Bree with you, Uncle Bilbo," Merry answered in his most serious tone. "I'm not going to just sit here while Frodo is in danger."  
  
Bilbo sighed. "Merry, I am sorry, but you cannot come with me. This could be a dangerous trip, and your father will use my old hide for book bindings if I allow it." He regarded the young hobbit with compassion as he spoke.  
  
Merry was expecting the refusal, but held his ground with unrelenting Brandybuck stubbornness. "But Uncle, I have my father's permission," he said, suddenly glad of the darkness that hid the furious blush he felt flushing his cheeks. Perhaps he was no better at fabricating than Frodo after all. He held out the carved staff. "He even let me borrow his walking stick, and I've food, water, and money of my own for the journey."  
  
Bilbo looked at Merry sharply, trying to assess the situation from every angle. The boy was fibbing, more than likely. Bilbo supposed he could refuse and send Merry back to the Hall, thereby treating him like an errant child, or he could relent and face Saradoc's wrath.  
  
There was also the fact that Saradoc would surely follow his son, which might not be a bad thing. It was about time he set aside other matters for the time being and dealt with this particular situation hands - on. If Saradoc were to see for himself what Bargo and Reginard's mischief had wrought, perhaps something would indeed be done about it. Besides, Bilbo realized, Merry, while young, was no longer truly a child. Give the boy a year or two to grow, and he would likely be taller than Bilbo.  
  
"You realize that this is not a pleasure trip, do you not?" Bilbo tried to make his voice sound stern and commanding. He stared at Merry with a sharp eye, testing the lad's resolve. "If you are to join me on this journey, you must be willing to accept all of the danger and discomfort of such a venture. You must also be willing to stand safely aside if I demand it of you." He moved to stand next to Merry and looked they youth squarely in the eye. "Once we get to Bree, there may well be trouble, and I will not allow you to be a part of it, as valiant as you are."  
  
"I'm ready, Uncle." Merry met Bilbo's gaze steadily. "I'm not turning back. If you won't let me go with you, I'll follow regardless." Merry knew he was being what his mother called 'impertinent', but he didn't care. His tone softened as he said, "I won't abandon Frodo when he needs me."  
  
At the mention of Frodo, Bilbo broke eye contact with Merry and looked at the ground for a moment. Merry would make a fine Master of Buckland one day, with his determination and his loyalty to all whom he loved. Merry loved his cousin enough to face both the wrath of his stern father and the unknown dangers that lay ahead.  
  
Bilbo's eyes locked once again with Merry's, and he straightened, thumping the end of his walking stick sharply against the ground. "Then you had better get on that ferry, lad, and quickly. We're wasting time."  
  
Merry's face lit up with a brilliant grin, and hugged Bilbo gratefully. "Thank you, Uncle!"  
  
Bilbo returned the embrace, thinking all the while of what Saradoc was going to do to him if anything happened to Merry. Nothing was going to happen, of course, because Bilbo was not about to let the lad get anywhere near any actual danger. Merry might be disappointed by such news, but he would have to brook it just the same.  
  
The young hobbit turned and began to load his pack onto the ferry. As Bilbo handed his pack to Merry, he shook his head and muttered, "Bilbo Baggins, what have you done?"  
  
~*~Bree, afternoon~*~  
  
Aiden took another swallow of his ale and regarded the ledger with satisfaction. The pipeweed trade had been lucrative for him of late, and he was pleased with the figures on the page before him. That last load he had brought back with him had sold at a premium, as he had expected.  
  
The corners of his mouth quirked upward in a smile, and he raised his tankard again for another drink. He was a successful merchant at the relatively young age of thirty, respected among the good citizens of Bree and welcomed in the lands of the Shire where he purchased his wares. The highest quality pipeweed in Middle Earth was grown by the Shire Folk, and Aiden was known to the plantation owners as a fair and decent fellow.  
  
He often visited the Inn of the Prancing Pony after a day's work, enjoying a cold ale and a good meal, and watching the people come and go through the bustling common room. He scanned the room idly, taking note of the variety of characters present. Travelers of all sorts made their way to the inn and always had news to tell, songs to sing, and stories with which to entertain any who would listen. He leaned back in a relaxed posture, letting his gaze rove around the room.  
  
"Master Aiden, do you fancy another ale?" Butterbur asked him.  
  
"That's a fine suggestion, Barliman," he answered good - naturedly. "The inn is busy today, it seems."  
  
"We're near to full, 'tis true," the innkeeper said proudly. "They were comin' in at all hours last night, what with the storms and all." Butterbur continued to gossip as he took Aiden's empty tankard and replaced it with a fresh one. "Bad weather's good for business, as nobody wants to travel in the wet."  
  
"Yes, I imagine that's so," the young merchant agreed, a twinkle appearing in his hazel eyes. "Far better to be enjoying your hospitality than to be catching one's death of exposure," he said, raising his tankard in salute to the innkeeper.  
  
"Aye, and speakin' of such, a couple of gents came in last night with a little lad who was ailing. Poor thing was fast asleep. They must have been caught out in the weather." The innkeeper shook his head as he wiped the table with a damp cloth. "Haven't seen the poor little thing come out of their room as yet, and I hope he's not too bad off."  
  
"They haven't asked you to summon a healer to see to the lad?" Aiden asked curiously.  
  
"No, sir, not as yet," Butterbur said quietly. "They asked not to be disturbed as the lad needed his rest." The innkeeper glanced around the room and a look of recognition crossed his ruddy features. "Why there they are now, over yonder." He gestured toward a nearby table where three men were hunched over their tankards, deep in conversation.  
  
"They've left the sickly lad alone?" Aiden frowned in consternation. There was no accounting for some people's actions, he mused. That poor child should have someone watching over him to make sure he was all right.  
  
"Must have, young Master," Butterbur said rather sadly. "The one with the dark hair said the boy was his son."  
  
Aiden regarded the men at the table thoughtfully. They didn't look much like the family type, in his opinion. Of course, one never could tell from just a glance what lay beneath the surface. They were probably traveling traders, he surmised. Their faces weren't familiar. Butterbur took his leave and continued his rounds, filling tankards and chatting amiably with the patrons.  
  
The table where the men were seated was near enough that Aiden could discern bits of the conversation as the voices rose and fell. Wondering where they were from and what news they might have brought from elsewhere, he cocked his head to the side and listened.  
  
"He's small yet, but he'll grow," Dolan was saying to the man who had joined him and Fergus at the table. "He's right fair for one of his kind, too."  
  
"Shire Folk is he?" The man asked gruffly, taking a generous swig from his tankard.  
  
Aiden frowned to himself. The mention of the little people piqued his curiosity and he listened more closely. The man with the reddish hair was speaking now.  
  
"Oy, that 'e is," Fergus said. "I'd like ta keep 'im fer meself, but me and Dolan 'ere are a wee bit short, so we're lookin' to deal."  
  
The third man seemed to consider, then asked, "How much you asking for him?"  
  
Aiden's eyes narrowed and his fingers clenched tighter around the handle of his tankard as he realized what they were discussing. That was no child of Men Butterbur had seen in their company. It was a hobbit, a young one from the sound of things, and the fiends were trying to sell him!  
  
"Sixty gold pieces," Dolan answered the man's inquiry.  
  
"Sixty?" The man who had inquired regarding the price raised his voice indignantly. "You're a greedy bastard. I want to see him before I lay out that kind of coin."  
  
"All right then, follow me," Dolan instructed, and the three rose from the table.  
  
Aiden knew he had to act, and quickly. He tucked the ledger into his pack and stood, abandoning the remainder of his ale. He schooled his features to a bland expression as he approached the three men.  
  
"Your pardon, gentlemen, but I could not help overhearing." He loathed himself for it, but he allowed a sly expression to cross his handsome face as he spoke. "You say you have with you a halfling for sale?"  
  
"Overhearing, or eavesdropping, my friend?" Dolan growled. "Maybe we do and maybe we don't. What's it to you?"  
  
"I should be asking you that question," Aiden said cagily. "I may be prepared to offer you a fair sum for him, depending on his merits, of course." He leered suggestively.  
  
"Follow us," Dolan said shortly, and Aiden fell into step with them as they made for the stairway.  
  
It crushed him to play the role of such a noisome villain, but it seemed the wisest course to follow. If they suspected how he really felt, they would likely kill him outright for interfering with their plans. He followed them up the stairs and down the dimly - lit hallway until they came to a door at the end of the corridor.  
  
Aiden held his breath as the four of them entered the room, only to find it hitching in his throat as he beheld the heart - wrenching sight before him. In the corner of the room, gagged and bound to a hard wooden chair was a young hobbit! The lad was semi - conscious, obviously drugged. He was terribly pale, and his eyes fluttered open weakly, bleary and unfocused.  
  
Aiden was horrified by the cruel treatment of the youngster by these ruffians. The Shire Folk he had dealings with were all kind, jovial and honest individuals, with an undeniable charm and appealing innocence. It tore at him to see this young one so clearly in harm's way, and he fought the impulse to throttle the ones who had done such a terrible thing.  
  
The prospective buyer was speaking and Aiden struggled to keep his ale from coming up as he listened. "Hmmm. Skinny, isn't he?" As the poor little creature drifted in and out of consciousness, the scruffy - looking man reached down and brushed his grimy fingers across one pale cheek. "Fifty gold pieces, no more," he offered bluntly.  
  
The other two men seemed to be considering. Aiden feared they might accept the rough man's offer. He must make an offer himself, then, and it must be more than the other man was willing or able to pay. Aiden cleared his throat and spoke, hoping his voice would not tremble and betray him. "A poor offer for one so fair. I shall pay you eighty."  
  
The first bidder turned on the young merchant, hissing foul breath in his face. "You're a snake and a fool!" The man turned back to the sellers and spat, "I made you a good offer. If this pretentious twit wants to squander his earnings, that's his business, but I'm out." He shot Aiden a poisonous look. "Looks like he's all yours, fancy boy. Enjoy him." With that, the man spun on his heel and left the room. Aiden watched him go, thankful that there was one fewer to deal with.  
  
Aiden turned back to the other two. "Do you agree to my offer?" He asked, trying to sound stern. Oh, but this was hard! These men were the worst kind of filthy vermin, and he was playing at being one of them, but only for the sake of the little one.  
  
Fergus and Dolan looked at each other and nodded. "We do. Pay us, and you may take him." Dolan held out a hand expectantly.  
  
Aiden reached for a pouch hidden in the folds of his cloak. He had planned to stash the coins away toward the purchase of more pipeweed to sell to the shopkeepers he supplied. It looked as if his supply would run a bit short for a while. The shopkeepers would just have to wait and make do.  
  
He counted out eighty gold coins into Dolan's waiting hands, controlling his revulsion and rage with difficulty. What had that poor lad endured? Whatever it was, there would be no more of it, he vowed silently.  
  
"He's yours, my good man. It's been a pleasure doing business with you." Dolan motioned to Fergus, who stepped behind the chair and severed the little hobbit's bonds. Eyes closed, the hobbit groaned into the gag and slumped over. He would have fallen to the floor, had Aiden not caught him.  
  
The young hobbit opened his startlingly blue eyes and stared up at Aiden fearfully. He was coming around slowly, but was still plainly disoriented. Aiden removed the gag and lifted the small form in his arms, draping his cloak around him to hide him from view.  
  
Without another word, the young man carried the hobbit down the stairs and toward the door, risking a glance behind him to see if he had been followed by either of the men. When they did not appear, he strode up to Butterbur who was regarding him with a curious expression.  
  
"If any Shire Folk should come to look for one of their own, send them immediately to me," Aiden said, his eyes blazing. Butterbur nodded and started to speak, but Aiden had already walked out the door.  
  
The drugged hobbit squirmed in his arms and mumbled something incoherent. Aiden made a soft shushing sound. "Sshhh, you're safe now, little one. You must trust me, for I'll not harm you." Wide, tear - filled eyes looked back at him, but with a little less terror than before.  
  
The young man hurried down one of the less - traveled back streets toward his home, keeping his burden hidden beneath his cloak. He had to get the youngster to safety and find out what, if any harm had been done to him.  
  
~*~To Be Continued~*~ 


	11. Safe Haven

A/N - I put the responses to reviews at the end of the chapter this time, since there were so many of you this time! You guys rock! ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 11 - Safe Haven  
  
~*~Bree, afternoon~*~  
  
Aiden hurried through the door of his home and locked it behind him. The house was a modest dwelling in a quiet street, comfortable but unassuming. As was common within the confines of the town, the house fronted the street directly with no garden space to speak of. Carefully tended window boxes bloomed cheerfully, however, and the glass panes were clean and shone in the late afternoon sun.  
  
The little hobbit was becoming more alert by the minute and began to struggle against him with growing trepidation. He didn't blame the young one for being frightened. Thus far, men had treated him with cruelty or indifference, and the poor thing had nothing else upon which to base his assumptions.  
  
"Easy, my little friend," Aiden soothed him. "I know you are afraid, but you need not be. You are in a safe place where nothing will harm you." He eased his burden down gently upon a sofa and turned to the hearth. Soon a fire crackled cheerfully, warming the room and its occupants.  
  
Stifling a sneeze, Frodo watched Aiden as he stirred the fire and added another log. This man looked rather different from Dolan and Fergus, he thought to himself. He was tall and lean, tidy and well - dressed, carrying a certain air of respectability. His slightly wavy brown hair was neatly trimmed and combed back from his face but for one lock that stubbornly hung down above his right eye. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if actively trying to keep from making any sudden moves or threatening gestures.  
  
Although this man spoke in a comforting tone and did not seem inclined to harm him, Frodo regarded him warily. The fog was beginning to clear from his mind, and he remembered hearing voices around him at the inn, and the words, 'I shall pay you eighty.' Respectable or no, this man had purchased him from Dolan and Fergus and at considerable expense.  
  
As Aiden reached out toward him, Frodo pulled back, weakened and somewhat confused. "Please let me be," he said in a small voice, hunching up against the sofa cushions.  
  
"What is your name, Shireling? You do come from the Shire, do you not?" Aiden kept his voice low and his motions slow and careful, unfolding a quilt and covering Frodo with it.  
  
"Frodo," the hobbit stammered. "My name is Frodo Baggins, and yes, my home is in the Shire."  
  
"A lovely place, young Frodo," the man answered. "My name is Aiden."  
  
Frodo was taken by surprise. After days of being treated as a thing rather than a person, he suddenly had a name again, and it was acknowledged and spoken. He was unbound, and in a warm, comfortable place. Even so, it came to him that coin had changed hands, and this seemingly kind man now owned him.  
  
"So I - I belong to you now," Frodo said in a small voice, not looking at Aiden.  
  
Like a knife cutting him, those words! So sadly spoken, Aiden thought as he knelt down at eye level with the hobbit. "You belong to no one, Frodo," he answered with a smile. "I paid not for you, but for your freedom. You are neither possession nor prisoner."  
  
Frodo could scarcely believe his ears. "You're not intending to keep me here?" He asked, confused by this strange turn of events.  
  
"Not against your will," Aiden said seriously. "However, I imagine you have been through an unpleasant ordeal, and you need rest." He laid a hand lightly on Frodo's forehead. "You are also feverish and in need of nourishment." He rose and removed his cloak, hanging it on a peg by the door. "The streets of Bree are no place for a young one to wander alone, Frodo. If you would consent, I would have you remain here for the time being, at least until your strength returns."  
  
"Thank you," Frodo said, his voice a little shaky. What this man had done for him was extraordinary, and Frodo was further amazed by the fact that Aiden asked him to stay rather than ordering him. "Why did you do it?" He dared to ask, forcing himself to look into Aiden's eyes. "Why did you pay so much, if only to release me?"  
  
"I know some Shire Folk, Frodo. I buy and sell pipeweed, and I travel to the Shire frequently to purchase fresh supplies for my customers." Aiden hung a teakettle over the fire as he spoke. "Your people have been good to me and I owe them similar kindness. I could not brook it when I saw you bound and mistreated, and I would not have you suffer further at the hands of those evil men. It shames me to think of how my kind have behaved toward you."  
  
Frodo tried to find something appropriate to say in response, but he was too dumbstruck to make a sound. He was spared further effort as Aiden continued speaking.  
  
"How did you come to be in the company of such people?" Aiden seated himself nearby and regarded Frodo curiously.  
  
"I was - I was sold to them," Frodo explained, the memory stinging bitterly. "I was taken against my will in the night."  
  
"Who would do such a thing?" Aiden asked incredulously as he watched the hobbit's expression. A horrifying thought occurred to him. "Surely not others of your own kind?" Aiden was taken aback as Frodo nodded. Breathing a heavy sigh, he rose and paced a few steps across the floor. "Why do I find that so surprising?" he wondered aloud. "If there are good and evil folk among my race, why should there not be among others?"  
  
Frodo considered the man's words and realized that there were indeed good and evil folk to be found in both the Shire and the lands of Men. Merry and Bilbo were certainly good, while Bargo and Reginard behaved more wickedly than any other hobbits Frodo had ever known. Dolan and Fergus cared nothing for the pain their greed caused others, while this man would give considerable wealth away to save another.  
  
Aiden crossed the room to retrieve the kettle from the hearth, and stepped into the kitchen to prepare some mild herbal tea for his guest. "Are you hungry, Frodo?" he called.  
  
"Yes, a little," Frodo answered. In truth he was very hungry, but with each passing moment he felt as though he was more of a burden to the good man. How would he ever repay such kindness? He had no money, indeed he had nothing at all save the dirty clothes he wore.  
  
Aiden emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray laden with food and two steaming cups of tea. He placed it on a small table nearby, and stood before Frodo, regarding him kindly. "I hope that I have earned your trust, Frodo," he began, and slowly reached out for one of the hobbit's wrists. Frodo caught himself nearly flinching away and forced himself to remain still as the man examined the marks left by days of captivity.  
  
"I am no healer, but I can see to this for you," he said quietly. "Are you in pain at all?" He didn't want to ask the wrong question and risk seeing the fear return to the hobbit's eyes. Even so, he must know the truth about the little one's condition.  
  
"My head hurts," Frodo replied, rubbing his temples. He assumed it was due to the aftereffects of the drug the men had used on him. Aiden looked concerned as he handed a cup of tea to the hobbit.  
  
"You felt warm earlier. I suggest that we get you into a hot bath, and then off to sleep. But first, you must eat." Aiden left the room to go and draw a bath for Frodo, who ate hungrily, finishing every last bite.  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland~*~  
  
Saradoc Brandybuck made his way into his study. It had been a tiring morning, and the afternoon had brought no relief. Frodo's disappearance had caused quite an uproar when everyone realized the lad had not just gone in search of solitude. The past few days had been a strain indeed, what with the crisis itself and the added stress of dealing with Bilbo's insinuation that Frodo was not being cared for properly at the Hall.  
  
The Master of the Buckland wrestled with his own conscience as well, knowing his son faulted him for not taking immediate action. Saradoc had not seen Merry all day, so the lad must be sore at him indeed.  
  
He dropped heavily into the chair behind his writing desk, scrubbing a hand across his face restlessly. Seeing an envelope propped against the polished brass inkstand, he paused. The writing was clearly Merry's, and Saradoc opened the envelope, expecting to find an outpouring of his son's troubled thoughts. He had encouraged Merry to write down the things that weighed upon his mind, to make them clearer and lay them out in the light to be dealt with.  
  
His face drained of all color as he read the message. Eru! Meriadoc, his dear and only son! The words on the page leapt out at him accusingly. 'Frodo and I have always looked out for each other, and this is no time for me to stop doing my duty by him,' Merry had written. Saradoc stared at the words and one of them kept jumping out at him. Duty. Had he failed to do his duty by his son? And what about Frodo?  
  
Could that outrageous story of Merry's have even a grain of truth to it? It seemed so far - fetched, and yet - - Frodo was missing and his only son was now somewhere between Buckland and Bree, off on a dangerous adventure with old Bilbo, rather than safe at home where he should be. How could Bilbo allow this? His anger with the eccentric old hobbit warred with his guilt at having pushed his son's concerns aside as the emotional overreaction of youth.  
  
There was only one thing to do, he knew. He would be leaving for Bree the next morning. Merry must return safely home with him, immediately. He would deal with Bilbo and his irresponsible act of allowing such a young lad to plunge headlong into danger. And that old fool wanted to be granted custody of Frodo? The thought was absurd.  
  
Attempting to calm his jangled nerves, Saradoc rose from the desk and poured himself a brandy. Downing it in one swallow, he steeled himself and left his study to find Esmie and tell her the bad news.  
  
~*~The Bree road, afternoon~*~  
  
"How are you faring, Merry my lad?" Bilbo asked briskly, turning to look at the youngster who walked by his side. They had walked without stopping since crossing the Brandywine early that morning. Whether it was that both of them felt the same instinctive sense of urgency, or that neither of them wanted to be the first one to suggest slowing the pace remained to be seen.  
  
"Fine, Uncle," Merry replied, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of him. They had walked mostly in silence, neither speaking the thoughts that occupied him. Unable to bear the weight of unspoken concerns any longer, Merry looked up and asked, "Do you think they'll hurt him?" Merry's voice was quiet, devoid of its usual crispness.  
  
"I don't know, Merry. I certainly hope not," Bilbo answered him, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I swear, if they have - " He didn't finish the sentence. Merry should not be exposed to the stream of blistering invective that threatened to break forth from him.  
  
"How could something like this happen, Uncle? And why Frodo?" Merry asked bitterly. "Frodo would never harm anyone. He's friendly and courteous to everyone he meets, whether they deserve it or not!" Anger rose in him as he remembered his confrontation with Reginard and Bargo, and how scornfully they had spoken of his cousin.  
  
"I don't know why, Meriadoc," Bilbo said wearily. He had been turning the same question over in his mind ceaselessly since the day before when Merry had burst in breathlessly and told him the shocking news. "Why anyone would wish to harm that dear boy is beyond my comprehension."  
  
Turning to more practical thoughts, Merry questioned Bilbo. "When we get to Bree," he asked, "what do we do?"  
  
"We must find accommodations and begin searching the town," Bilbo answered pensively. "We will have to ask at the inns, the marketplace, any place where people gather, I suspect."  
  
"Do you think anyone will have seen him?" Merry asked, unsure in his own mind.  
  
Bilbo looked even grimmer as he answered Merry's question. "Someone will have had to, lad." How to explain to the young lad what images sprang to mind at the words 'they've sold him to the Big Folk'? Depending upon the motives of the men, Frodo may very well have been seen by others, and perhaps for ill purpose.  
  
Frodo could end up in any number of situations, many of them unpleasant. Men didn't spend good coin for anything they couldn't use in one fashion or another, Bilbo mused bitterly. Frodo could be working as forced labor of some kind as they spoke, or made to pick the pockets of pedestrians in the streets. There were worse, even darker possibilities that presented themselves, but Bilbo refused even to consider them.  
  
It made little difference that there were a good number of hobbits living in Bree and the surrounding area. Although the Bree hobbits and the Big Folk of the town seemed to live in relative harmony, outsiders came and went with frequency, and they didn't always take note of the arrangement. There was even the possibility that Frodo was no longer in Bree at all, but in the hands of travelers who could have taken him anywhere.  
  
"We should start with the inns, I believe," Bilbo told his companion. "They are the primary gathering places of the town and most news and gossip winds up in them one way or another." His gaze fell upon Merry's morose expression. "Don't worry, lad. We'll find him," Bilbo said as soothingly as he could. ~We had better,~ he thought grimly.  
  
~*~Aiden's home, Bree~*~  
  
Aiden touched the lid of the brass - bound trunk lightly, almost reverently. He hadn't thought to ever be in need of anything inside it again, but had simply not been able to bring himself to part with the contents. Now he suddenly found he could put some of the things to good use again.  
  
It had been three years since the Fever had swept through Bree and the surrounding settlements. They had come so close to escaping its clutches, but then, even as the healers said the danger was mostly past, Callen had sickened and Morinda soon after.  
  
Aiden wondered often how he himself had been spared while those he loved had been taken from him. It had taken all his strength to come to terms with the loss, and he was unsure at times as to whether he truly had. The trunk he now opened was proof of that, its contents neatly stowed away, preserved without purpose - until now.  
  
The little hobbit's clothing was somewhat worse for wear as a result of his adventure, and Aiden had been struck by how closely the size of the garments matched that of those in the trunk. Cal had been of a similar size to that of his current houseguest, and Aiden was suddenly glad that he had preserved some of his belongings.  
  
He pulled a small nightshirt from the trunk and shook the wrinkles from its folds. Digging deeper, he found a pair of simple tan breeches and a linen shirt. He hoped they would be a passable fit, as his tailoring skills left much to be desired. He closed the trunk and locked it again, placing the key in a carved wooden box on a shelf nearby.  
  
"Frodo?" Aiden tapped on the closed door lightly to announce his presence. "May I enter?"  
  
"Yes," came the simple reply. Frodo had finished bathing and had wrapped himself in one of the two large towels Aiden had left on the basin. The other sat unused and folded neatly nearby.  
  
Aiden chuckled to himself. He should have known only one of the towels would be necessary. They were large enough to be used by a tall man, and there simply wasn't that much of Frodo to dry off. He placed the nightshirt on the basin stand, and regarded Frodo with satisfaction.  
  
"Nothing like a good bath, is there?" Frodo smiled back at him. "There's a spare room ready for you down the hall and to the right. I've brought you something clean for now, and there are some items on the dresser that may serve for tomorrow. Your own things are waiting to be cleaned in the meantime."  
  
Frodo held up the nightshirt and looked at it, surprised that there should be anything in the house to fit someone of his size. He hadn't seen any toys or other evidence that there were any children about. He looked across the room at Aiden and noted the faraway look in his eyes, and he understood.  
  
"I - I'm sorry," he managed, uncomfortable with the thought that his presence may have brought back painful memories of another now gone. "Thank you, Master Aiden."  
  
Frodo's words brought Aiden back to the moment, and he shook his head with a smile. "Just Aiden, if you please. Callen was very close to your size, and if he were here, he would be pleased to share his things with you."  
  
Frodo merely nodded, not wishing to cause this good man any sorrow. He knew the pain the man carried in his heart, for he carried it too. It seemed they had something in common.  
  
"I have some salve to soothe the marks on your wrists," Aiden said, taking a small jar down from a shelf. "The healer I got it from is quite skilled, it seems. It doesn't smell as badly as some remedies, and it doesn't sting in a wound either."  
  
Still wrapped in the large, soft towel, Frodo seated himself on a small wooden stool as Aiden treated the chafed and reddened skin where the rope had been. "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness," he said. "I cannot possibly repay you properly."  
  
"There is naught to be repaid, young friend," Aiden replied. "I left word with Butterbur at the inn to send any of your folk who seek you to my door," he continued. "Surely you have been missed by now."  
  
"Perhaps," Frodo said absently. Seeing Aiden's expression, he elaborated. "I live with my aunts, uncles and cousins. There are so many of them that one can escape notice rather easily for while."  
  
"I see," Aiden replied. Where were the lad's parents? Suddenly he remembered the look he had seen in the hobbit's eyes at the mention of Callen, almost as if he knew sorrow of a similar kind. Had the lad lost his parents somehow? But what kind of extended family did he live with that would not immediately know the absence of one of its own? It must be a very large family indeed.  
  
"Any of your family who come to my home are welcome to stay as they will, Frodo," Aiden said, a glint of humor in his eyes. "And from the sound of things, yours is a large family indeed. I should not be surprised to find a herd of hobbits at my door in the days to come!"  
  
"I doubt there should be so many," Frodo said, thinking of the few who would leave the comfort of the Hall to look for him. "Perhaps one or two, should they even discover the truth about what happened."  
  
Aiden was hard put to conceal his dismay at Frodo's statement. Surely this lad's family cared enough for him to search as far as Bree! Frodo would be allowed to remain as long as he cared to, and if he wished to return to his home, perhaps Aiden would escort him personally.  
  
Shifting the conversation to a less invasive subject, Aiden spoke again as he sealed the jar of salve and placed it back on the shelf. "Now you must rest, Frodo. As I said, there is a room ready for you, and if there is anything you need, you mustn't hesitate to make it known to me. I will be near enough to hear if you should call."  
  
Before Frodo could thank him again, Aiden had stepped out of the room and closed the door. Frodo put on the nightshirt, finding it to be a nearly perfect fit. As he padded down the hall and into the room that had been readied for him, he felt rather ashamed. Up until now, he had begun to regard the Big Folk with fear and mistrust, thinking them greedy, cruel and uncaring. Aiden had disproved the notion completely, and had indeed earned Frodo's trust.  
  
Frodo climbed into the bed and burrowed into the covers contentedly. Sleep beckoned him and he opened himself to it willingly, fearing nothing in this warm and safe haven. He would find a way to repay Aiden's kindness, if it took a lifetime to do it, he vowed. He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately, sinking into the dreamless oblivion of complete physical and emotional exhaustion.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~  
  
Aelfgifu - Merry is definitely a brave youngster. He's got a bravado about him, doesn't he? After all, he ends up being referred to as Meriadoc the Magnificent. Aiden is definitely a sympathetic character, and Frodo could use some sympathy!  
  
Daisy Brambleburr - At last we have a break in the case of the disappearing hobbit. Saradoc will be peeved, but he will be worried also. Aiden is definitely a good guy. He can't stand to see another person suffering whether they're his own kind or a cute little hobbit!  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Glad you like Aiden. It's always a challenge to bring in and OC and have him be believable and fit into the story without taking it over. Frodo's been pretty terrified so far, so I thought I'd give him a little break!  
  
Krista - Aiden is definitely going to be coming to Frodo's aid, and not a moment too soon!  
  
Shirebound - You were indeed just in time for the rescue, as was Aiden. You are right that Frodo could not be in better hands. We'll get to spend some time with both of them in future chapters.  
  
Trust No One - A light at the end of the tunnel? Ahh, but where is the end? Not yet. The story continues, but Frodo definitely has a new friend.  
  
QTPie 2488 - Looks like Aiden is getting a fan club. I think he's part of every decent person I've ever known, and something altogether individual as well. You'll get to know him better as we continue the story.  
  
FantasyFan - You can breathe now! Frodo is in good hands for the present. We definitely have good developments happening for the time being.  
  
Aratlithiel - Aiden makes me smile. I like having the opportunity to write a nice guy into the story for once. Broad shoulders, piercing eyes and silky hair? Sure. Why not?  
  
TTTurtle - I thought maybe ff.net was acting up for a bit there. I posted another chapter just to make sure everyone came back - sneaky, eh? You're right, we're not nearly done yet. There is a lot more to come! Frodo needs an ally, so we've got him one.  
  
Heartofahobbit - Thanks for joining us. I would say Frodo's meeting Aiden will certainly give him a new perspective on Men in general. These experiences will definitely prove to Frodo that the world is made up of good and evil together, and it is very true that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Joining us while on vacation? You are dedicated! Didn't I say there were no rangers coming to the rescue? LOL! Glad you like the new character. You'll see more of him as we continue the tale.  
  
Ilmare - Plot twist? Hmmm. Maybe! But for now, Frodo has found a new friend who will be of great comfort to him. Let's get those other hobbits to Bree, shall we?  
  
Iorhael - Frodo is in very good hands. Butterbur's babbling set the stage for Aiden's curiosity, which led to Frodo's liberation. Let's catch up with our young hobbit!  
  
Endymion - It was good luck for Frodo that Aiden showed up. As you mentioned, there are still some nasty folks hanging about, though. Will we see them again? Hmm. answers in future chapters. Saradoc is plenty worried about Merry. Will he follow? Read on!  
  
Gayalondiel - Thanks for your review of chapter 6! I know, I'm bad! Poor Frodo has had a tough time, but we'll be giving him some comfort in the next installment. Plot twists after that? Evil author ain't tellin'! With regard to chapter 10, thanks for your compliments on the relationship between Merry and Saradoc. They will interact in future chapters. 


	12. A Walk With a Friend

Trust No One - Aiden and Frodo do have some common ground that will make their friendship a strong one. I will try to pop over and check out your new fic on my day off, when I'm left at last to my own devices.  
  
Gayalondiel - Yes, we have happy, fluffy comfort for now. It's much deserved! Now to get Bilbo and Merry to Bree. Will they make it before anything else can happen? Answers ahead!  
  
Aelfgifu - I have a feeling I owe you a lot of thanks for this story's success so far. You've drawn attention to it by plugging it as you update RATM, and I thank you! It seemed natural to have Aiden and Frodo share some common ground. It's one more thing that will help establish trust between them, and right now Frodo really needs someone he can trust!  
  
Aratlithiel - I think we have a possible nominee for president of Aiden's fanclub! Merry and Bilbo are going to have some time for heart - to - heart discussion as they journey to Bree.  
  
Krista - Falling for Aiden? You and Aratlithiel might be in contention for the fanclub presidency! He is exactly what Frodo needs right now - someone he truly can trust.  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - You're right. Frodo does need to realize that there are people who do care for him. Glad you like Aiden. He's gaining a good following.  
  
Daisy Brambleburr - It was definitely intended that Frodo and Aiden share a similar experience. It will strengthen their friendship. I was happy to review your story. It's coming along nicely!  
  
Shirebound - We've given Frodo a respite from the discomfort and fear of earlier chapters. Glad you enjoyed the details of the last chapter. There will be a lot of details in this one too!  
  
Distortion - Thanks for coming by! I loved your response about thinking at first that the two hobbits selling Frodo was a little far - fetched. I thought so at first too, but then I started thinking about the historical perspective. Ship captains sometimes ended up with crew through similar means, and people have sold each other into slavery for thousands of years. You're right as well that youths can be amazing in the things they'll get up to even today. I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I hope you'll stay with us as it continues.  
  
Endymion - Frodo believes Bilbo would come for him, but he's none too sure that the truth of his presence in Bree has gotten out. It may have been an odd notion for Frodo to seek solitude during one of Bilbo's visits, and those who actually know him well were thinking about that. That's why Merry got so nervous so quickly. As for Frodo being taken from Bree by whomever purchased him, that was indeed a possibility. It looks like he's going to be staying put in Bree for the time being, though.  
  
TTTurtle - A little love and beauty in the midst of Frodo's trials, certainly. Waiting in trepidation to see if it will last? Stay with us!  
  
Bookworm2000 - Thanks for joining in! It remains to be seen whether Saradoc will help or hinder Bilbo and Merry in their journey. Right now his mission is to keep Merry from getting into trouble. Will he succeed? You'll find out in the next few chapters!  
  
Iorhael - Frodo is priceless, isn't he? I don't know about Aiden, but there are a lot of people around here who wouldn't mind keeping him!  
  
Ilmare - I'm glad Aiden has restored your faith in the Big Folk. He has restored Frodo's as well.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 12 - A Walk With A Friend  
  
~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, the next morning~*~  
  
Esmeralda Brandybuck dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief while Saradoc strapped his pack to the pony's back. "I'll be fine, Esmie," he was saying. "I'll catch up with them in no time and I'll bring Merry home safely." The pony stamped and snorted, as if in agreement with his words.  
  
"Be careful, Sara," Esmie said through her tears. "I don't like any of this, not one little bit."  
  
"I'm none too fond of the idea myself, Love, but Merry must not go to Bree. He is too young, and Bilbo is too unpredictable." He gave the pony a scratch behind one ear. "I'll be back before you know it, and we'll get to the bottom of this whole thing with Frodo."  
  
"You don't really believe that story about Frodo being sold to the Big Folk, do you?" Esmeralda queried, looking sidelong at her husband.  
  
"I know it sounds outrageous, but I don't quite know what to think, Esmie." Saradoc shook his head in frustration. "I know those older boys have made Frodo's life rather difficult from time to time, but something like that would be going entirely too far. If by any chance it is true, they cannot be allowed to stay at the Hall."  
  
Esmeralda nodded in assent. "We can deal with them later, but please, Sara. Bring our son back immediately!"  
  
Saradoc nodded. After a hug and a kiss goodbye, he mounted the pony and rode away up the path and toward the ferry. Once across the Brandywine he would follow the Bree Road. With any luck he would catch up with Bilbo and Merry within a day or so. When he did, he had a few choice words for Bilbo Baggins! He was welcome to entertain all the strange notions he pleased, but that old fool was crossing the line when it came to Merry. No son of his was going off on an ill - advised and dangerous journey with that cracked oldster. Dragons, Dwarves, Wizards, and now this!  
  
Saradoc sighed as he led his pony onto the wooden ferry and released it from its mooring. If Merry was getting up to mischief like this already, what were his tween years going to be like? At least Paladin's young lad, Peregrin, was too young to trouble him in such fashion. Word of Merry's antics would surely travel to the Great Smials, and come next Yule, Saradoc could expect Paladin to get a good laugh at his expense. Let Paladin Took have his bit of mirth, thought Saradoc. Soon enough that lad of his would be headed for his tweens and as much trouble as he could find, and they'd see who had a good laugh then!  
  
~*~ Aiden's home, Bree~*~  
  
Sunlight streamed in through the window and across the face of a young hobbit, who blinked sleepily and opened his eyes. For the briefest of moments, Frodo cast his gaze about the room in fear and confusion. His mind began to clear and he remembered where he was and how he had come to be there.  
  
He had slept soundly, giving himself over to the relief of being in a safe place. He was still rather astounded at the strange but welcome turn of events that had brought him into Aiden's company.  
  
He slipped out from under the covers and crossed the room to the dresser. Folded neatly atop it were a clean shirt and breeches. Like the nightshirt, they were a good fit, well - made and comfortable. He thought about the little boy who had worn them before and wondered what he was like. If he had been anything like his father, he had been a good lad indeed, and Middle Earth was a sadder place for his passing.  
  
Frodo stopped at the washbasin and scrubbed his face quickly, pausing to run his fingers through his hair. Having made himself presentable, he stepped out of the room and into the parlor to find Aiden seated at a table, making notes in a small book. The man looked up as Frodo entered the room, and smiled.  
  
"Did you sleep well?" he asked, closing the book and rising to his feet. Frodo looked nothing like the pale, disoriented prisoner he had beheld at the inn. It was a relief to see the transformation, and Aiden shuddered inwardly as he thought of what might have been.  
  
"Yes, thank you," Frodo replied, grinning. "How long was I asleep?"  
  
"Since late yesterday afternoon," Aiden told him. "You look much better." He again stepped forward and felt Frodo's forehead. "I think the fever is gone as well."  
  
"What are you working on?" Frodo asked curiously. The little book and a quill pen lay on the table nearby.  
  
"Just some plans for the day," Aiden answered. "I have a couple of orders of Old Toby to fill and a trip to make to the market." He regarded Frodo thoughtfully. "In fact, if you're feeling up to it, you could come along. The air would be good for you, and I would be glad of the company."  
  
"That sounds splendid," Frodo answered. His eyes roved across the room and fell upon a discarded tray of breakfast dishes. He crossed the room quickly and retrieved it, taking it to the kitchen.  
  
"Frodo, what are you doing?" Aiden asked him, watching as the little hobbit stood upon a chair and started washing up the dishes.  
  
"I'm helping you, " Frodo replied cheerfully. "It's the very least I can do, after everything you've done for me." Perhaps he could repay the man's kindness in small ways.  
  
"Thank you, Frodo, but that will be quite enough help for now. I believe you've missed breakfast, and that must be remedied," Aiden replied, gently turning the hobbit aside from the washbasin.  
  
Frodo looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and laughed. "I've missed first and second breakfast, and it's almost time for elevenses! I suppose I was tired indeed," he acknowledged. Why did Aiden have such an odd expression on his face, Frodo wondered?  
  
"As often as I have traveled to the Shire, many of its customs are still unknown to me, apparently," the man said with amusement. "First and second breakfast? Elevenses? Can you explain these to a poor, confused Big Person?"  
  
Frodo reddened, feeling rather embarrassed. "Although we hobbits are small, our appetites, generally speaking, are not." He smiled, thinking of what a normal day at Brandy Hall consisted of in terms of food preparation, not to mention an event of any size. "We eat several meals a day, starting with first and second breakfast, followed by elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner and supper."  
  
Aiden couldn't help laughing out loud. "How extraordinary! I suppose I had better make some changes to that market list of mine, if I'm to provide properly for you." What other surprising things would Frodo have to teach him about his people?  
  
"The last thing I want is to be a burden to you, Aiden," Frodo said, feeling guilty. "I promise I shall not eat you out of house and home, and I shall earn my keep as well as I am able."  
  
"If you are insistent upon putting yourself to good use, I suppose I could find some tasks for you to assist me with," Aiden said thoughtfully. "Would that ease your mind, young one?"  
  
"Yes, very much so," Frodo replied. Even if all he could do was tidy up and help with errands, Frodo was determined to make himself useful.  
  
"Very well, you can help me with the dishes," Aiden told him, "but not until you have had a proper meal yourself. Elevenses? Is that the term?"  
  
"It is indeed," Frodo laughed, finding it amusing to see the man attempting valiantly to understand the strange customs of the Shire Folk. He wondered what other things the Big Folk did differently, and looked forward to learning more of them and their ways.  
  
After a brief meal, Frodo assisted Aiden with clearing up the dishes and sweeping the hearth. Satisfied with the condition of the house, they stepped out into the sunshine. A crisp, early Autumn day greeted them, and they made their way through the streets at a comfortable pace.  
  
"This is your first real look at Bree, is it not?" Aiden asked. Frodo looked up at him and nodded. As they walked, Aiden pointed out different landmarks and told Frodo a few things about the town and its people.  
  
"Did you know there are a number of your kind who dwell here?" The hobbits of Bree were not present in large numbers, but they were an integral part of the population, living mostly in smials in the hills above the town proper.  
  
Frodo nodded. He had heard there were hobbits in Bree. He hadn't seen any of them as yet, but he hoped to. It would be comforting to see some of his own kind in this unfamiliar environment.  
  
"I am acquainted with some of the families," Aiden informed his companion. "In fact, the two orders of Old Toby I'll be filling today are for Otto Mugwort, who owns a fine bakery, and Anton Burrows, the bookseller. I should like you to meet them."  
  
"I would like that very much," Frodo replied happily. The two worked their way through the milling crowds. The Bree Folk were going about their usual routines, and the streets were filled with people and horse - drawn carts. The clatter of hooves and cart wheels upon the cobblestones mingled with the sounds of merchants haggling with customers and shouts of greeting between acquaintances.  
  
Before long, Frodo and Aiden were standing before the door of a small shop. The delicious smell of freshly - baked bread and pastries floated out to greet them. "This is Master Mugwort's shop," Aiden told Frodo. "His bread is without equal, as you will discover shortly."  
  
As they walked in, a middle - aged hobbit with curly rust brown hair and round jovial features turned to greet them. "Master Aiden! A good day to you," Mugwort said cheerfully.  
  
"Master Mugwort, a pleasure as always," Aiden responded, and gestured to Frodo. "I should like you to meet my guest, Frodo Baggins. Frodo, Otto Mugwort."  
  
Frodo and Mugwort bowed politely to each other. "Baggins, eh? You must be from the Shire, as I don't know of any by that name here in Bree," Mugwort said conversationally.  
  
"Yes, Master Mugwort, I am from Buckland," Frodo replied politely. "I also have family in Hobbiton."  
  
Mugwort's brow furrowed as he thought about this. "Hobbiton, you say? Who was your grandfather, boy?"  
  
"My Grandfather was Fosco Baggins, who married Ruby Bolger," Frodo answered. "His father was Largo Baggins."  
  
"Didn't his sister Lily marry Togo Goodbody?" Mugwort asked. When Frodo nodded, he continued. "We may just have some family in common, young Frodo, for I've a share of Goodbodies for cousins," Mugwort said with a grin.  
  
"I've a few as well, Master Mugwort. Let's see. There's Ivan, Ponto, Daisy, Pansy - " Frodo continued the litany for some moments as Mugwort nodded occasionally in recognition. All the while, Aiden stood with a rather dumbfounded look. Were all the hobbits from Bree to the Westfarthing related to each other? How incredibly complex their families must be!  
  
Noticing the perplexed expression on the man's face, Mugwort smiled. "I think we're tiring Master Aiden with our list of relations," he said, chortling.  
  
Frodo realized that Aiden looked rather confused indeed. "Forgive me please," he said, looking up at his newfound friend. "Hobbits have very detailed genealogical history. For the most part, all the families have relatives in common somewhere, it just takes a little searching to find them."  
  
"So every time you meet one another, you may be talking to a member of your family?" Amazing. Aiden was sure he would not know his fourth cousin from the Steward of Gondor, should they meet in the marketplace. Yet Frodo and Master Mugwort, given the time to talk for a few minutes, would know their exact relationship to each other although they had never met before.  
  
"Quite so, Master Aiden," Mugwort answered him. He then paused and sniffed the air thoughtfully. "A moment, if you will, please. I think I've a batch of loaves ready to come out of the ovens."  
  
"Aiden says your bread is of the finest quality, and I have no doubt of it," Frodo sniffed the air appreciatively.  
  
Mugwort's laugh rang out. "Been telling you tales, has he?" He smirked at Aiden. "Not surprising, rascal that he is!" Mugwort disappeared behind a curtain for a few moments, and returned with a satisfied look on his face. As Aiden drew a small pouch from a pocket, Mugwort sighed and grinned. "Ah, now there's a sight of a welcome kind."  
  
"Yes indeed, Master Mugwort. Here's a bit of Old Toby for you, as scheduled. I fear I may be a bit short of supplies for a little while, so please be patient with me," Aiden told the hobbit, elaborating further as he saw Frodo blush just a little. "I've been quite busy, you know, and my travels are delayed by worthwhile necessity."  
  
"Old Toby is worth the wait, Master Aiden," Mugwort said as he stepped behind a counter. He withdrew several coins from a pouch and passed them to Aiden, accepting the pipeweed in return. "Are you in need of anything for yourselves today?" he inquired, quirking an eyebrow at them.  
  
"Yes, we do need some of that fine bread of yours," Aiden replied. "Better make it two loaves, if you please," he said, remembering the lesson in hobbit culture and customs he had learned earlier that morning.  
  
"Two it is, good sir," Mugwort replied, wrapping the still - warm bread and handing it to Aiden. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Baggins, and I hope your stay in Bree is enjoyable."  
  
"Thank you, Master Mugwort," Frodo said, reaching to take the loaves from Aiden's hands. "I have not been disappointed so far. Bree is quite an interesting place." Indeed, it seemed rather strange to Frodo to see the Big Folk and the hobbits of Bree living and working so closely together. Big Folk were often regarded with suspicion in Buckland, and most hobbits kept their distance from them.  
  
They stopped next at the bookshop, and were greeted by Anton Burrows, a bright - eyed hobbit who moved and spoke briskly, his mind and hands always busy. He paused from dusting a shelf to greet them. "Welcome, Aiden!" Burrows enthused. "I've finished repairing the binding of those books for you." His eyes lit up a little brighter. "Have you anything for me today, perhaps?"  
  
"Only a bit of pipeweed, my friend," Aiden said, adopting an attitude of mock apology. "No Longbottom Leaf, I'm afraid. You'll have to settle for Old Toby."  
  
"Teasing me, are you?" Burrows whacked Aiden playfully in the leg with the duster that he held. "As if Old Toby is something one merely settles for!" He noted Frodo's presence with curiosity. "And who might your companion be?"  
  
Aiden introduced Frodo, and having become acquainted with the custom earlier at Mugwort's shop, he was no longer surprised when they spoke until they found they had a Boffin or two in common.  
  
As Aiden finished his transactions with Burrows, Frodo cast his gaze about at the books around him. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of ink, leather bindings and paper, thinking it as fragrant as flowers. This was even better than the library at Brandy Hall!  
  
As Aiden tucked a couple of small books away, he noted Frodo's rapt stare. "Fond of books, are you?"  
  
Frodo nodded, still looking around him joyously. "The library back home is one of my favorite places," he replied. "I spent hours there, reading anything I could find," Frodo said, a little wistfully.  
  
"Fear not, Frodo," Aiden said kindly. "You shall do so again, I promise you." Small wonder the lad was homesick, Aiden thought. A journey is one thing, but removal by force from one's home was bound to engender a kind of homesickness far stronger than any other sort.  
  
They bade farewell to the bookseller and made their way into the crowded market. Aiden passed a basket to Frodo, and they wove in and out among the stalls and booths, chatting amiably and filling the basket with fruits and vegetables. Anyone who saw them together would have assumed they had been friends for years, not merely hours as they laughed and conversed easily.  
  
~*~  
  
The man turned and followed them with his eyes as they passed, watching their progress coldly. A sneer came to his lips as he recognized the man and the halfling at his side. That snotty young fellow had boldly outbid him for the halfling, making him look like a no - account fool.  
  
And just look at the little creature, walking by his side like an equal! He didn't hold with the Bree Folk and how they mixed with the halflings and transacted business with them. Down South, where he was from, halflings were a rare sight, and usually were the property of another. Some were servants, some were, well, wage - earners, for lack of a better term.  
  
He had been given the opportunity to get one for himself while in Bree, and had his chance taken from him by that fancy talking young snip. He watched Aiden and Frodo as they walked through the marketplace, and took up following at a distance. He wanted to know where the young man lived. He might have missed his chance at the halfling once, but he had an idea that might rectify that situation.  
  
Aiden and Frodo proceeded on their way, unaware of the unfriendly eyes that watched them and the footsteps that shadowed theirs.  
  
~*~The Bree road, nightfall~*~  
  
Merry tossed his bedroll down and spread it out against the ground. Bilbo did likewise as the sounds of the night began to close in around them. They had placed more wood upon the fire and it burned brightly, casting light and warmth upon the travelers.  
  
"A good day's journey, young Meriadoc," Bilbo observed. "If the weather holds, we'll get to Bree in no time at all."  
  
Merry merely nodded. He was rather preoccupied with thoughts of what was undoubtedly going on back at Brandy Hall. His father would have found his message by now, and his mother would be beside herself with worry. At the start of the journey, he had been so caught up in the idea of going to Frodo's aid, he hadn't given much thought to other matters. Now, on the road with nightfall encroaching, guilt for his actions crept up on him and attached itself to his spirit, gnawing at him.  
  
"Merry, lad, you're a bit quiet," Bilbo prompted him. "Share your thoughts with an old hobbit, my boy." He stirred the fire and sat, waiting expectantly.  
  
Merry stared into the flames as he spoke, knowing it was futile to try to hide what he was thinking from the sharp old hobbit next to him. "I must be honest, Uncle Bilbo," Merry began, not looking up. "When I said I had my father's permission to accompany you to Bree, I was - " He paused. 'Lying' was such an unpleasant term. "I was not being entirely truthful."  
  
Bilbo grunted to himself. "I had thought as much," he answered.  
  
Merry raised his head suddenly to look at the old hobbit with a shocked expression. "You knew, and yet you didn't send me back to the Hall?"  
  
Bilbo poked a stick into the coals of the fire again. "You're a big lad, Merry," Bilbo countered. "Your father may disagree quite heartily with me, but I feel that you are old enough to make a journey beyond the borders of the Shire, provided you do so in the company of adults."  
  
Although Bilbo's answer pleased him very much, Merry was still wracked with guilt. "I was just thinking about Mum and the look she must have had on her face when Da told her." His voice was low and soft, his gaze pensive. "I know I've probably upset her terribly, and I feel badly for having done so."  
  
"You might do well to worry about what she'll do to you when she has you back," Bilbo cautioned wryly. When the gibe brought no response from Merry, he sighed. "Seriously, Meriadoc, your mother is quite strong and very practical. Yes, she will probably be upset, but she will not be shattered. She will be very concerned for your safety."  
  
"But I am safe, Uncle! At least, I feel safe traveling with you." Merry turned to look at Bilbo. "You've been everywhere, and you returned safely. Who could be better for me to travel with?"  
  
Bilbo smiled at Merry's concept of his experience. "I have hardly been everywhere, lad." He shifted to find a more comfortable position on the bedroll. "I have seen much, but not all of what this big, amazing world has to offer. I do plan to watch over you and ensure your safety inasmuch as I may," he said quietly, well aware of the responsibility Merry's presence on the journey had placed upon him.  
  
They spoke little for the remainder of the night, but merely watched the stars emerging instead. After a while, they slept, wrapped in their blankets and dreams by the fire.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	13. Concerning the Giving of Gifts

Bookworm2000 - How about that nasty ruffian? Have I sufficiently tangled the plot at this point? Lots of people with lots of motives coming into the mix now! Let's see what Saradoc decides to do.  
  
Endymion - Saradoc does indeed have the advantage of traveling by pony. Interesting argument? I hope it's interesting. Aiden has learned some new things about hobbit culture and he will learn more in this chapter. Will the man who placed the first bid have two hobbits to choose from? We'll see!  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - It looks like Frodo is not as safe as we thought, eh? Trouble? Well, maybe. Time will tell!  
  
QTPie - 2488 - Aiden is indeed kind to Frodo because of the memory of his own loved ones. He's also just kind in general! The two bad guys from earlier in the story are not necessarily gone. You will see them again! To answer your question about the length of the story, so far there are 26 chapters. And yes, that nasty fellow who placed the first bid for Frodo is still with us and he's in a bad mood!  
  
Aelfgifu - Aiden is a sweetie! I'm sure any single Middle Earth girls would just love to meet him. Ahh. The man in the shadows lingers still. As to something going awry, let's see what comes our way. By the way, your spamblocker did throw me back. I know it's new, so I'm not fretting!  
  
Tavion - Thanks for coming by, and for reading my other stories! I hope to have more ideas as time goes by. We will eventually see Sam, Frodo and Merry s their adult selves back at Bag End, but not for a while yet. There is more of the tale to be told!  
  
TTTurtle - It would be great to have a hobbit or two come by to visit. I would welcome them gladly. It would be a little scary to be one of the little folk in a world where almost everything is larger, and one would hope there are some general rules about everyone living peacefully together. Fast updates guaranteed, since I'm as into this as you are!  
  
CuriousCat - So thrilling to have lurkers cease to lurk! Welcome. Saradoc just doesn't quite understand Frodo the way Bilbo does, it seems. With all of Brandy Hall to run, the needs of a unique individual like Frodo just don't quite occur to him as they should. More mischief afoot? Oh, yeah!  
  
Iorhael - More angst coming, I promise. But for now, we're giving Frodo a break from all that he's endured so far.  
  
Aratlithiel - You're right that we can't forget that lurker. He's not going to let us forget him.  
  
Heartofahobbit - Brandy Hall is pretty big. I haven't found info yet that states how many hobbits live there, but in the prologue of FOTR, Tolkien refers to places like Brandy Hall and the Great Smials of Tuckborough as dwellings where many generations of hobbits live together in many - tunneled mansions. Brandy Hall is the ancestral home of the Brandybucks, but it would be easy to imagine many other relatives living there as well. Frodo's faith in the Big Folk may be open to changes. Time will tell!  
  
Midgette - There isn't anything wrong per se with just letting Frodo go home and ending the story there. It's just that plotbunnies are strange creatures and things will sometimes just happen. Sometimes a twist in the plot will lead to further exploration of characters and their motives, and to more opportunities to explore angst, drama, action, redemption, inner strength, and a host of other things. I don't want to drop any spoilers here, so I'll explain better in my e - mail.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 13 - Concerning the Giving of Gifts  
  
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, early morning~*~  
  
Aiden woke to the sound of industrious activity in the kitchen. It was still rather early in the morning, and he was surprised that Frodo should be up and about already. He dressed quickly and left his room, emerging to see Frodo bustling about busily in the kitchen. The delicious aroma of breakfast reached him as he stood in the doorway.  
  
"Frodo, why so busy at this hour?" he inquired of his small guest, who stood on a chair to reach the stove. Nothing in the house was sized to hobbit proportions, so Frodo needed a boost to accomplish his task.  
  
"I'm making you breakfast," he replied simply. "Tea?" He gestured to the table, which was set and ready.  
  
Aiden was rather amazed. He hoped that Frodo was not under the impression that such things were going to be required of him on a daily basis. He certainly had not paid for the hobbit's freedom just to have Frodo consider himself a servant of any kind.  
  
"Frodo, this is not necessary. You do realize that, do you not?" he said gently, trying to convey his thoughts without bringing up the subject of Frodo's ordeal. The lad was recovering nicely from the harsh experience, and Aiden wanted to see him continue to do so.  
  
"But I must do something for you," Frodo replied, looking a little fretful. "I have nothing else to give you, and no money to buy you a present."  
  
Aiden wondered if he was not yet fully awake. Had Frodo just said something about buying him a present? "I am afraid I do not understand," he said, sitting down at the table. "Why should you feel you need to give me a gift?"  
  
"Because it's my birthday, of course," Frodo replied. "Gift giving is a part of celebrating one's birthday, is it not?"  
  
Aiden was beginning to understand that he was running blindly into another custom of these small folk, and his education was about to be furthered. "Well, yes, the giving of gifts is a part of celebrating a birthday," he conceded. "But should I not be giving you something since it is your birthday today?"  
  
"Oh, I hadn't realized - " Frodo stammered, feeling foolish. "You see, in the Shire, it is the one celebrating his birthday who gives gifts to his friends and family on that day. The custom is very old among my folk."  
  
"Ahh, I see," Aiden replied, pouring two cups of herbal tea. "Because it is your birthday and you must give me a gift, in keeping with your custom, you have made me breakfast."  
  
Frodo smiled and nodded. "Exactly." He looked rather wistful as he spoke again. "It's not a proper gift, really. It was all I could think of."  
  
"It is a fine gift, Frodo," Aiden said softly, thinking how extraordinary the Shire Folk were. "I accept it gladly, and wish you a happy birthday." A thought struck him and he looked curiously at the small hobbit standing before him. "How old are you today, Frodo, if I may be so bold?"  
  
"Today is my twenty - first birthday," Frodo replied.  
  
"Why, you're all but grown then," Aiden said with surprise. Perhaps it was an effect of his diminutive size, but Frodo looked much younger than twenty - one.  
  
"Oh, I'm not of age yet," Frodo laughed. "I will be considered to be an adult when I reach the age of thirty - three."  
  
Aiden nearly choked on his tea. "Thirty - Three? So you are not a child really, but not an adult either?"  
  
"No, I am what we call a tween," Frodo explained. "As you said, I am not a child anymore, but I have yet to reach my majority. I am somewhere in between, hence the term 'tween'."  
  
So Frodo was perhaps the equivalent of a youth of sixteen years. As this thought struck him, Aiden felt his anger rising against those who had held him captive and sought to sell him into no less than slavery. Frodo was just a young lad, too young to be exposed to the horrors of such things.  
  
He pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to frighten the young one with them. "Enough laboring for the time being," he said, trying to bring the cheer back into his tone. "Come sit at the table and have breakfast. If tweens have the appetite of their age equivalent among my people, your hunger must be fair maddening."  
  
Frodo laughed at the comment, but did as he was bidden, pausing only to bring steaming dishes to the table.  
  
~*~The Bree road, mid afternoon~*~  
  
Bilbo stopped walking and cocked his head to the side, listening. Merry stopped as well, and turned to see Bilbo with a look of concentration on his face.  
  
"What is it? Do you hear something?" Merry asked as Bilbo turned and looked back the way they had come.  
  
"I thought I heard the sound of hoofbeats," he replied. "I suggest we use caution until we know who is behind us."  
  
Merry shifted nervously from one foot to the other. It could just be another traveler on the road, who would wave and pass them by. It could also be someone whose intentions were less than wholesome, a highway robber maybe. Another thought struck the young Brandybuck and his pulse quickened. It could be someone from home, coming for him. Eru, but he had done some mischief this time, hadn't he?  
  
They moved to the side of the road where they could dive into the concealing underbrush if a threat should appear. Whether or not the rider was a threatening presence however, depended upon the perspective of the observer. Saradoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland, came around a bend in the road and into Bilbo and Merry's line of sight.  
  
"Steady, Meriadoc," Bilbo said. "It seems our plans are about to meet with considerable resistance."  
  
If Bilbo was exercising his talent for understatement, he was in fine form that afternoon. Saradoc's glower deepened as he saw them ahead, waiting for him. Upon reaching them, he dismounted and stood before them with his eyes blazing angrily.  
  
"Bilbo Baggins, you have much to answer for," Saradoc said sternly. His gaze moved to Merry, who flinched despite his best effort to the contrary. "And Meriadoc, you should know better."  
  
"I'm sorry, Father," Merry began nervously. "I didn't mean to cause you worry - "  
  
"Didn't mean to cause me worry?" Saradoc repeated incredulously. "And I suppose I should not be worried if my son disappears into the wilderness on a dangerous journey with an old fool?"  
  
Bilbo straightened and faced Saradoc eye to eye. "An old fool I may be Sara, but even I can see that Merry is not an infant anymore." He gestured to the lad beside him. "He is old enough to make decisions for himself and brave enough to go where his heart leads him, for the sake of those he loves. You should be proud of him."  
  
Saradoc's face reddened. Who was Bilbo to tell him in what regard he should hold his son? "I am as proud of Meriadoc as a father could be, Bilbo. Even so, this journey is ill - advised and he is too young yet for such ventures."  
  
Merry began to feel the stirrings of anger within him. They were discussing him as if he weren't even present! How could his father treat him so?  
  
"And when will I not be too young, Father?" Merry said, rather hotly. Bilbo and Saradoc both turned to face him at the sound of his voice. "I am old enough to do the same chores as the older boys and to face the same punishments for neglecting them. I have been allowed to come and go as I please, so long as I leave word of my whereabouts. Have I not done so?"  
  
Saradoc sighed. "This is different, Merry," he said, looking for a way to explain. "This is not an afternoon of fishing or an overnight camp out with your friends. This is leaving the Shire and traveling to Bree, a place that can hold many dangers. Add to that the reason for your going, and - "  
  
"The reason I'm going to Bree is Frodo," Merry said sharply. "Frodo needs me, Father. Have you ever noticed that no one else pays any attention to him? Well I do pay attention! I'm his friend, and I won't leave him in danger."  
  
"And what will you do then, if he truly is in danger? Are you big enough and strong enough to fight the Big Folk? What if they are armed?" Saradoc's voice began to betray his fear for his young son. "Think of your mother and me, Merry. Do you know how awful it would be for us if something happened to you? We couldn't bear it."  
  
"I don't know what I can do to help Frodo, Father. I only know that I feel I have to try somehow." Merry looked at his feet for a moment. "I know you and Mother are upset, and I don't blame you." He looked up again, his expression hardening. "But I will not turn back with you."  
  
Saradoc seemed almost physically impacted by his son's words. He stepped back and looked at Merry, and as he did the shock seemed to drive away the illusion that his son was still the little, golden - haired child he held in his heart and mind. He realized that Merry stood straight and tall, and would be able to look him in the eye ere another season had passed. The legendary Brandybuck stubbornness was plain in the set of the lad's jaw and the sharpness of his gaze.  
  
"You plan to defy me, then? Your own father, Meriadoc?" A look of pain and disappointment flickered in Saradoc's eyes.  
  
"Come with us, Saradoc," Bilbo offered, laying a hand on the other hobbit's shoulder. Unless he missed his guess, the façade would start to crack in a few moments. "If Merry will not be convinced to turn back, you could join us instead."  
  
"Join you? Bilbo, this is a fool's errand, undertaken in haste as the result of listening to rumor," he replied, regarding Bilbo as if he had just sprouted wings. "I do not want my son in danger at all, Bilbo. It matters not whether I am there when danger threatens."  
  
Merry joined the conversation again. "Please, Father. I would like it very much if you went to Bree with us. I heard them talking, Father. It's more than just rumor that Bilbo and I are following. Bargo and Reginard have done something awful and Frodo is in trouble."  
  
Saradoc had never heard his son speak in that tone before. It was grave and serious, courageous and resolute. It was the sound of impending maturity, of loyalty and love. It demanded fairness and honesty in response, and challenged him to walk the path of right, rather than safety. He realized he was more proud of his son than ever before.  
  
"If I cannot persuade you to return with me, Meriadoc, I suppose I shall have no choice but to accompany you to Bree," he said slowly. "For I will not end this day without you at my side, one way or another."  
  
Father and son hugged each other then, words no longer being necessary. Bilbo smiled to himself, pleased with the resolution. Merry was growing up before his father's very eyes, and Saradoc had now seen the truth of the matter. He felt almost uncomfortable witnessing such a pivotal moment in the relationship of father and son.  
  
Bilbo cleared his throat and leaned on his walking stick. "We had best be on our way, had we not?" The gentle prodding brought the other two back to the task at hand and they broke away, smiling at each other.  
  
The pony was laden with packs and Merry took the reins to lead him. The three hobbits continued toward the town of Bree as the afternoon wore away toward evening.  
  
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, late afternoon~*~  
  
Frodo had been reading before the fire, and had fallen asleep on the sofa. Aiden slipped out of the room quietly, walking into the room where the small trunk sat against the wall. He opened it again, and began to remove items as he worked his way toward the bottom. When he reached the box, still wrapped in paper and tied simply with twine, he stopped.  
  
Frodo had said that among his people it was the one celebrating his birthday who gave the gifts, but Frodo was not among his own people. Rather, he was a distance from home, alone save for the company of a single man, who knew little of his customs despite being on good terms with the Shire Folk in general. The tween had nothing to his name in this foreign place, brought here unwilling as he was.  
  
Aiden drew the small box out of the trunk. It had been intended as a gift for Callen, but the Fever had struck before it could be given to the lad. In his grief, Aiden had packed it away with the child's other belongings, and only now had it come to mind again.  
  
He replaced the other items in the trunk and locked it, then took the box out into the parlor and laid it upon a table. As he placed another log upon the fire, Frodo woke with a start.  
  
"Oh, I must have nodded off," he said, yawning. Frodo sat up and stretched as Aiden seated himself in a chair nearby.  
  
"I'm glad you're awake, Frodo. I have something for you." Aiden lifted the box from the table and held it out to Frodo, who looked at him curiously.  
  
"But you don't have to give me anything," he replied, smiling. "Or is it your birthday too?"  
  
Aiden laughed at the remark. "No, Frodo. It is not my birthday today. Since you are among my folk at this time, I merely thought it appropriate that I should observe my own custom as always. Besides, I think you will put this to good use."  
  
Frodo took the box from his hands with care, and perhaps some hesitation. He certainly didn't wish to offend this kind man by refusing his gift, but he felt he had accepted much from Aiden as it was.  
  
"Go ahead and open it," Aiden prompted him.  
  
Frodo pulled carefully at the twine around the box. As the paper came away and he opened the package, his eyes lit with joy. "Oh, it's wonderful," he cried as he held up the thick woolen cloak. It was a fine forest green shade, and the fabric was sturdy. He stood and wrapped it around him experimentally, and found it to be the correct size.  
  
Before he could blink, Aiden found his arms full of hobbit as Frodo hugged him. "Thank you, Aiden. I shall treasure it," Frodo told him, hugging him like a lifelong friend.  
  
"I am glad it suits you," he replied, returning the hug. Aiden found himself wondering if any of Frodo's family had come to look for him yet. If by any chance they had learned of the treachery of the lads who were responsible for Frodo's adventure, they should be arriving in Bree soon to find him and take him home.  
  
He realized he would miss his young friend when that time came. Even so, Frodo was of the Shire and belonged there, among his own. It would be enough to have known the remarkable lad for the short time they'd had. Seeing the happiness in Frodo's face on this day confirmed that he regretted not a single one of the coins he had parted with to save him, for a being of light such as this was well worth saving.  
  
~*~The Inn of the Prancing Pony, Bree~*~  
  
"'Bout time you showed up," the scruffy man growled. That stupid dolt of an innkeeper was unreliable at best when it came to delivering messages. It was surprising these two had even gotten word that he wanted to meet with them.  
  
"Patience, friend," Dolan said evenly. "You said you had a business proposition to discuss?" He and Fergus seated themselves at the small table in the corner.  
  
"That fancy fella what bought that halfling offa you boys. I seen him in the market with the little imp, just walkin' by his side, pretty as you please." The man gave them a sour look and continued. "That little thing shoulda been mine, but that smart - mouth merchant stuck his nose in."  
  
"That's business, me friend," Fergus replied. "Sold t' the highest bidder, fair enough."  
  
"I still want that halfling, and I'll pay you good to help me get him." The scruffy man proposed. "I know where that fella lives."  
  
Dolan found himself mentally recoiling from the situation. He was a traveling trader, not a kidnapper for hire. It had been enough trouble keeping that halfling under wraps as it was, and he was actually glad to have washed his hands of the whole thing. He now had enough coin laid away to last him through the winter months. He didn't need to risk being arrested and locked away for criminal activity.  
  
Fergus seemed to be considering. "What's yer offer then?"  
  
"Fifteen gold pieces each." The man glared across the table at Dolan and Fergus.  
  
"Gonna cost ye at least twenty each fer that kind o' work," Fergus replied dismissively. There was no way he was going to go into a man's home and risk being killed or wounded in an attempt to kidnap a halfling without being paid a decent fee for it.  
  
"What do you mean 'each'?" Dolan asked, his eyebrows rising. "I'm not getting involved in any break - ins or kidnappings. I've got myself settled for the winter, and I'm not going to risk it."  
  
Fergus was taken aback. He looked surprised, then angry. "Ye mean yer not in? Yer goin' to sit back on yer happy arse an' refuse a chance at a little extra?" What was the matter with the man? He might have enough to last the winter, but what about enough to actually enjoy it?  
  
"That's right," Dolan answered, downing a swallow of ale. "It was a hindrance taking on that halfling to begin with." He turned to Fergus and spoke pointedly. "I'm a trader, Fergus. Not a kidnapper."  
  
"I was right then, wasn't I?" Fergus smirked nastily. "Ye were goin' sweet on that lil' thing. Ye got a likin' fer halflings, Dolan?" The suggestion was accompanied by a wolfish grin.  
  
"Bastard!" Dolan spat. "You're so stupid, Fergus. You've got enough money to set yourself up for the winter, but you want more. You willing to risk spending the winter in lockup?" He slammed his tankard down against the table. "That's your business."  
  
The scruffy man who had made the offer was watching them with something rather like amusement as they argued. He didn't care if they came to blows or if they kissed and made up later, as long as they helped him get what he was after.  
  
"Yer a bleedin' coward, Dolan," Fergus accused. "Always knew it, I did. Ye don't want any part of it? Well that's dandy wi' me."  
  
"Call me what you will, Fergus," Dolan growled, "but don't call me when that fella rams a knife into your gut for breaking into his home."  
  
Fergus had imbibed enough ale and heard enough talk. He rose from the table and swung at Dolan, catching him in the jaw with a solid roundhouse punch. Dolan got to his feet slowly, rubbing his jaw. In a swift motion, he grabbed Fergus by his collar and slammed him into the wall.  
  
"You're on your own, Fergus. Good luck. I hope that merchant cuts your heart out." He let go, then turned and stalked out of the common room.  
  
Brushing himself off and gathering his composure, Fergus turned back to the man at the table. "Fine thing, when ye learn who yer friends are." He seated himself at the table again. "What's yer name, friend?"  
  
"You can call me Gavin," the man said. Gavin and Fergus shook hands.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	14. Conversations

Daisy Brambleburr - I'm answering both your reviews for chapters 12 and 13 here. It would not be outrageous to say that Aiden looks upon Frodo like a son to some degree. Frodo is still a youngster, and in need of someone to look out for him. Aiden misses his son, and if he can channel that care into helping Frodo, so much the better for both of them! Saradoc has indeed gone to fetch Merry. We'll see what happens regarding that in this chapter.  
  
Fionarox - Thanks for de - lurking and reviewing chapter 6! The angst is still comin', and we've a distance to travel before getting back to Buckland to deal with those 'ratfaced hobbits'! As to your review of chapter 12, have you got a Palantir? You are very perceptive as to the possible direction of this story! This tale continues for some time yet.  
  
Shirebound - As you said, Frodo cannot help but make friends among good folk. He's so charming! Even nasty ruffians need time to plan their doings, so let's see if we can't keep this happy interlude going for a little while yet. All roads are beginning to lead to Frodo, for good or ill at this point. Merry is definitely showing some of the characteristics that lead him to follow Frodo on the quest later on. He's a very noble hobbit, and it's important to him to do his duty by those he loves.  
  
Bookworm2000 - Gavin and Fergus are hateworthy, aren't they? Let's see what else I can do with this tangle of a plot I've got going. This chapter we'll eavesdrop on conversations between Frodo and Aiden, Merry, Bilbo and Saradoc, and Gavin and Fergus.  
  
Krista - Yep, fast updates here. The secret behind that is that I mostly completed the story before I started posting. That way, I can keep the momentum going and get a mailbox full of fun reviews almost every day! The hobbitlore in these past few chapters was partially inspired by my beta, Aratlithiel. She suggested the part with the hobbits swapping family names upon meeting, and I had fun writing that!  
  
Aratlithiel - Yes, as my beta you've had the ultimate sneak peek! I've changed minor things here and there on a couple of chapters, so I might still have surprises for you.  
  
Endymion - Many things in this fic were inspired by the films, up to and including the color of the cloak Aiden gave to Frodo. The argument between Saradoc and Bilbo was necessarily a bit abbreviated, since time is of the essence for them, and they have other bones to pick with each other, as we will see. It is hard for a parent to realize a child is growing up, especially if we're talking about the youngest. I know that one from personal experience! Yes, the ruffians in this fic and those naughty hobbit lads suffer from similar faults. They are greedy, small - minded, and lack integrity and compassion.  
  
TTTurtle - This makes Dolan - Conflicted! (Whether he's aware of the fact or not.) Merry is in a little hot water with his folks right now, but Frodo still is running ahead in the 'endangered' department.  
  
Trust No One - Hope your vacation is going well! How this will end for Aiden remains to be seen. He still has quite a bit of the story ahead of him! Whether we will see Otto Mugwort again remains to be seen. He may or may not show up again. (Note how I say nothing at all, really? Wicked! Tricksy!) You are welcome for the review, and thanks for your kind comments as well!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 14 - Conversations  
  
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, late afternoon ~*~  
  
Aiden was standing before the hearth, gazing at a portrait above the mantelpiece. He had been there, unmoving, for several minutes, and Frodo was reluctant to disturb him. He set the tea service down quietly on the table and poured two cups.  
  
The sound roused the man from his reverie and he turned to join the hobbit at the table. Aiden stirred his tea with an absent expression, watching as the liquid swirled in the cup. He may have been looking at a cup of chamomile tea, but all he saw were the faces in the portrait.  
  
"The portrait is beautiful," Frodo ventured quietly. "You miss them very much, don't you?" He looked up and caught Aiden's eyes, and the haunted look there went straight to his heart.  
  
"Yes," Aiden answered him. "Not a day goes by when they aren't in my thoughts and my heart, Frodo." He sipped his tea and stared at the grain of the wooden table. "It's been three years now, but it doesn't seem that long."  
  
Frodo knew what Aiden meant. It had been eight years since his parents had died, but sometimes the pain of the loss could flare up as sharply as if it were only days ago. Frodo nodded silently.  
  
"Callen was the first to come down with it. He was fine the day before, all bright eyes and energy." Something like a smile crossed the man's face as he thought of the little boy who'd had his eyes and hair and his mother's nose. "The fever came on so quickly. The healer said it was worse for the young and the very old."  
  
Frodo nodded again, thinking of an illness that had spread through Brandy Hall when he was younger. Several of the children came down with it and one very young one had died. The entire Hall had been in mourning for weeks afterward.  
  
"Mori and I remained by his side. I could see that she was tired, but she wouldn't rest. Eventually, she sickened as well." Aiden's eyes seemed clouded, shrouded by a veil of sorrow. "We lost Cal on the same day that she fell ill. I don't think she knew he was gone."  
  
Frodo felt his chest tighten as he beheld the anguish in his friend's face. "Aiden, you don't have to tell me if - "  
  
"It's all right, Frodo," he said, taking a deep breath. "It helps, somehow."  
  
"I know. To speak of it is hard, but to hold it inside is harder still," Frodo said softly, thinking of how he had closed himself off from others after his loss.  
  
"When I lost Mori, I actually wished for the illness to take me as well. I couldn't understand how it could take them and yet leave me untouched. I still don't understand it, Frodo." He put the teacup down and placed his hands on the table, palms down.  
  
"Perhaps you have something yet to accomplish," Frodo suggested. "Something of great importance, whether to yourself or others that requires you to remain."  
  
Aiden looked at Frodo in wonder. "You are quite possibly correct, Frodo, and if so, you are wise beyond your years." He stirred his tea pensively. "Perhaps the greater powers that direct our fates have more in mind for us than we imagine possible." Aiden sipped his tea, attempting to allow a lighter tone to come into his voice. "Enough of my rambling," he said, forcing a smile. "I've no wish to carry my guest away with me on a wave of melancholy."  
  
"It's quite all right," Frodo replied. "In truth, I've been rather out of sorts today myself."  
  
Had he been? Aiden wondered if he had failed to notice Frodo's mood due to his immersion in his own sorrow. "Forgive me, Frodo. I've been so accustomed to bearing my moods in solitude, I fear I've noticed little today."  
  
"It's nothing, really," Frodo sighed. "I just miss my home a little. My cousin and my uncle, specifically. Merry is my best friend, and Uncle Bilbo is, well, quite special."  
  
"Everyone needs to have special people in their lives," Aiden said, his tone lightening somewhat. "Tell me about them."  
  
"Bilbo is amazing," Frodo began, trying to find adequate words to describe his relative. "In truth, he is a cousin, but for as long as I can remember, I have called him Uncle. It seems to suit him better." Aiden nodded and Frodo continued. "When he was younger, he went away on a great adventure. He knows Wizards, Elves and Dwarves, and he has seen dragons and spiders bigger than you - " Frodo stopped to take a breath.  
  
Aiden's expression had changed from the pensive, sorrowful gaze to a look of wonder and a hint of amusement. Wizards and dragons? My, but this lad had an interesting family indeed! "He sounds like a capital fellow," Aiden remarked. "What about your cousin?"  
  
"His name is really Meriadoc, but we all call him Merry. It seems to suit him, as he's always full of laughter and mischief." Frodo smiled at the thought of the pranks his younger cousin could come up with. "He's a bit younger than I am, but he's always there when I need him, whether I'm aware of needing him or not."  
  
"It sounds like he is a very good friend indeed," Aiden agreed. "You will see them again, Frodo, I promise." He rose from the table and put a hand on Frodo's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I left word with Butterbur at the Prancing Pony that I am to be contacted immediately as soon as your family comes to look for you. If necessary, I will take you home to the Shire myself."  
  
The lump that rose in Frodo's throat nearly kept him from speaking, but he managed two words. "You will?"  
  
"Of course," Aiden replied, kneeling by Frodo's side. "As your friend, I would do so."  
  
Thoroughly overcome, Frodo hugged Aiden as his tears fell.  
  
~*~The Bree Road, nightfall~*~  
  
They had stopped for the night, making camp a short distance off the road. Merry shifted on his bedroll, trying to get some rest, but sleep avoided him completely. He could hear the voices of Bilbo and Saradoc a short distance away, as they sat talking by the fire. Merry tried not to listen, but it was impossible not to as the voices rose and fell.  
  
"As I said before, Sara, I feel that Brandy Hall is not the best environment for Frodo at this time in his life," Bilbo said pointedly. "Let me come to the point. I wish to adopt Frodo and have him live with me at Bag End."  
  
Saradoc brooded in silence for a moment. When he spoke, it was with an air of mild frustration. "Bilbo, we have discussed this. You have never raised a child, much less a tween."  
  
"You have, and yet Frodo does not seem to be benefiting from your experience." The comment was made rather sharply, and so was the response.  
  
"Indeed? Then tell me, Bilbo. What is it that Frodo is lacking at Brandy Hall?" Saradoc looked Bilbo in the eye and waited for the answer.  
  
"Someone who understands him," Bilbo shot back. "Someone who will not judge him but accept him for who he is."  
  
"Do you think we judge him, or fail to accept him?" Saradoc said angrily. "That is absurd."  
  
"I speak not just of you or Esmie, Saradoc. I speak of the Hall in general." Bilbo's voice softened somewhat as he spoke. "Sara, have you seen how distant Frodo is from the other youngsters? Have you seen how he is either ignored or put upon by them?" He shook his head sadly. "The adults whisper about him as well. He has endured much."  
  
"You needn't tell me what goes on in the Hall," Saradoc said, glaring at Bilbo.  
  
"Need I not?" Bilbo was glaring back. "Did you know those boys forced Frodo to raid the farmer's mushrooms for them? That they threw him into the river? Thrashed him in the hayloft and trapped him there? These things have been going on for years, Saradoc. It's the same lads who are responsible for all of these things."  
  
Even in the light of the campfire, Bilbo could see Saradoc blanching at his words. So he hadn't known about the specific events. Had Frodo simply not spoken of them at all? That was likely. Even so, it was obvious by their behavior that Bargo and Reginard had an unhealthy fixation on Frodo.  
  
"I - I hadn't known of all those things," Saradoc admitted. "You managed to talk Frodo into telling me of some of the trouble, but after that day, he said nothing more. I had assumed the trouble to be finished."  
  
"I think he feared retaliation if he told of any more. The point, Saradoc, is that the signs have been there, and someone who had time for the lad would have seen them." He placed a hand on Saradoc's arm and smiled. "I know you do not actively neglect Frodo. The fact, as I see it, is that you and Esmie have so much to deal with that you cannot see all that happens. You cannot be everywhere."  
  
"Who can, Bilbo? We have cared for Frodo to the best of our ability, I assure you." Saradoc considered for a moment. "Frodo is unique. He is rather like a deer in a forest," he explained. "When you happen upon him suddenly, he is likely to bolt."  
  
"Not if you know how to approach him," Bilbo said calmly. "I know, Sara. The boy talks to me. That is why I took Merry seriously when he said something terrible had happened."  
  
"So you believe we will actually find Frodo in Bree, as the rumor says?" Saradoc asked seriously. There was no sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"I believe that those two lads have done him a bad turn, and that if he is anywhere nearby, Bree is the likely location." Merry had heard one of those devils say Frodo ought to be halfway to Bree, Bilbo remembered.  
  
"If there are to be any major changes in his life, Frodo must agree to them," Saradoc cautioned. "He must genuinely desire to go with you to Hobbiton, or he will not be sent."  
  
"I am in agreement with you, Sara," Bilbo said, nodding. "I would never ask the boy to do anything that wasn't his heart's desire."  
  
Merry tried to shut out the rest of the conversation. Frodo, going away to Hobbiton with Bilbo? The thought stirred something within him that he would later admonish himself for feeling, a selfish, possessive wish that Frodo remain at Brandy Hall. ~My best friend, going away,~ Merry thought sadly. Maybe Frodo would refuse to go. Maybe, if Merry asked him to, Frodo would stay.  
  
Bilbo and Saradoc continued to discuss the matter long into the night, and Merry eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.  
  
~*~Bree, after nightfall~*~  
  
The house was small and decrepit, and Fergus had no idea what power kept it from collapsing. It was out of the way, though, and the cellar seemed secure enough. "Nice place ye got 'ere," he remarked with casual flippancy. "'Ow long ye figure on hidin' 'im 'ere?"  
  
"Not long," Gavin informed him. "I'm heading south in a couple of days. I can keep the little imp here until then." The cellar was bare and dank, with sturdy doors that could be bolted from the outside.  
  
"Ye sure ye can 'andle 'im?" Fergus prodded. "I don't think 'e's gonna go wi' ye quietly." He snickered to himself, remembering Frodo's protests. "'E likes that fancy fella 'e's with now, I wager."  
  
"I don't care what the little thing likes or doesn't like," Gavin growled. "If he steps out of line, I'll put him back in his place right quick." That little halfling would learn his place before they even left Bree. No servant of his would be talking back to him or disobeying his commands, and if it took a day or two to get the idea across, so be it.  
  
Having found the location secure enough to suit their purposes, Gavin and Fergus took their leave. All they had to do now was get their hands on that halfling, and that would be accomplished soon enough. They headed off to a nearby inn for a pint and more planning.  
  
Idiots, thought Dolan as he stepped out of the alcove where he had been observing them. So Fergus really meant to go through with it. Dolan had followed them out of overwhelming curiosity. He'd known Fergus was a greedy fool, but he hadn't thought he'd try something so risky as this. Well, he wasn't getting involved. He was smarter than that. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and walked away in the opposite direction, whistling a tune.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	15. Taken

Shirebound - Getting nervous? As this chapter will show, you have reason to be.  
  
Aratlithiel - Good old Fergus. Isn't he just a gem? NOT! Way angsty, and more comin'.  
  
Gayalondiel - Glad you're enjoying the interaction between Aiden and Frodo, and Saradoc's part in the story. As to the ruffians hurting Frodo, I can tell you the next couple of chapters won't be much fun for him. But I do promise lots of hobbit huggin' later on. Lots and lots.  
  
FantasyFan - I'm glad you liked the foreshadowing in Aiden and Frodo's conversation in the last chapter. It was meant to bring to mind the astonishing events we know will take place in Frodo's life later on. Bilbo will not take no for an answer when it comes to taking Frodo to Bag End, provided that Frodo wants to go. Merry is certainly torn between his wish to see Frodo safe and happy and his desire to keep his best friend nearby.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Welcome back! Can Dolan make himself useful? There's always hope. Aiden and Frodo lean on each other the way true friends often do, when they need a word of comfort or encouragement. It is good to see the sun shine in Bree in a fic, isn't it? I think the dark shots of Bree in the movie are mostly the cause of many of us immediately writing the Bree scenes as dark and scary and devoid of other hobbits. I went to book canon when it came to that part.  
  
Tavion - Yes, just when things seem to settle down, there's trouble brewing! It will indeed be bittersweet when Frodo and Aiden have to say goodbye. They've become such good friends in a short time! I like Aiden a lot too. He's one of those characters that just showed up in my mind complete with a history and everything. I do picture him as having been a good husband and father. An interesting point you've made that Aiden's compassion in saving the future Ringbearer has, in effect, also saved Middle Earth.  
  
Aelfgifu - Glad you liked the interaction between Bilbo and Merry. Merry can't fool old Bilbo, no matter how hard he tries. For Saradoc this journey to Bree is a journey of personal growth and understanding as he comes to grips with the idea of his son's growing up. Angst coming up? Ohhhh, yes.  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - I've never had a character in one of my stories named Gavin before, but maybe someone else has? Merry is welcome to be your best friend any time? Biscuits and ale? Merry and I will be right over!  
  
Endymion - Gavin is a piece of work, isn't he? As to witnesses, Dolan is still around. The question is, whose side is he on? Will he take sides? The quiet interlude is definitely drawing to a close for the time being.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Author's Note - The next couple of chapters will be rather dark for Frodo. Those of you who know my stories know that I never kill a character and that any injury or unkindness done to them will be followed by better times. That being said, back to the story! ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 15 - Taken  
  
~*~The Bree Road, afternoon~*~  
  
Merry paused and squinted ahead into the sunlight. As his eyes scanned the surrounding area, he spied something unusual in a clearing up the road. He turned and waved to his father and Bilbo.  
  
"There's something in those trees up ahead," he told them. "A shelter of some kind, I think."  
  
Bilbo and Saradoc followed him, picking their way through the underbrush as they left the road and made for the clearing. The pony munched contentedly as they examined Merry's find.  
  
It was indeed a shelter, long and just a little taller than they were. It had been cobbled together from downed tree branches, brush cuttings and leaves. The wind had blown some of the leaves away, leaving holes in the makeshift roof, but the structure itself was sound.  
  
"Frodo was here!" Merry exclaimed excitedly. "We used to build shelters just like this in the woods when we were younger," he explained, running a hand along one of the tree branches. "They must have camped here the night that storm went through."  
  
Saradoc examined the withering leaves on the sections of brush that had been used to fill in the walls of the structure. "I think you're right Merry," he said. "These were cut only a few days ago."  
  
"I'd say we should use it ourselves, but stopping now would be a waste of daylight," Bilbo said as he scanned the sky. "There's not a storm cloud in sight, so we'll not need such a shelter."  
  
"At least we know that Frodo was all right at the time," Merry said quietly. He didn't say anything further. He didn't have to, as they were all thinking the same thing, and praying the same silent prayer for the safety of the missing tween.  
  
They began their march again, leaving the little shelter behind them. If they could keep going until nightfall, they would be only one day out from Bree. It would be late when they arrived in the village, so they would have to begin searching for Frodo the next morning. Three weary, anxious travelers and a pack - laden pony continued to follow the road as the sun sank lower in the sky.  
  
By nightfall, they had found another quiet wooded area to settle into. Merry joined his father in a search for firewood while Bilbo unpacked their gear. The silence was uncomfortable, and Merry was the first to break it.  
  
"We'll be there soon," he remarked absently, reaching down for a fallen tree limb.  
  
"Hmmm, yes. Not much farther now," Saradoc commented. He stopped his wood gathering and turned to face his son. "Speak your mind, lad. I can tell you've something bothering you, and it's best that you're out with it."  
  
Had he been that obvious? Merry sighed. "I know Uncle Bilbo wants Frodo to go to Hobbiton with him," he said slowly. "Father, I don't want him to go! Frodo is my closest friend at the Hall, and if he goes to Hobbiton, I'll never see him."  
  
Saradoc frowned to himself as he thought about the situation. "You will be able to see him, I'm sure. There will be visits at Yule, and Bilbo always comes for the Harvest Festival."  
  
"But it won't be the same, will it?" Merry's eyes were downcast. "We won't be able to go swimming together or camping out in the woods anymore." He looked up at his father, his eyes brimming with tears. "I know I'm being selfish, but I can't help it."  
  
Saradoc dumped the load of wood he was carrying and stepped toward Merry to hug him. Merry dropped his burden as well, and the two stood together, a father giving comfort to his son.  
  
"I know how you feel, Meriadoc," Saradoc told him. "It will be hard for you to see your best friend go away, but it may very well be the best thing for Frodo right now." Saradoc stepped back and looked Merry in the eye. "I was against it at first, but some of what Bilbo said last night makes sense. Perhaps Frodo would do better in an environment where he has more space of his own, and someone to look after him exclusively. You know this in your heart."  
  
Merry broke eye contact with his father and looked away. "I suppose I do, somehow," he answered sadly. "I know Frodo feels lonely and out of place at the Hall, Father. I just hoped that I would be the one who could help him feel better. I can't help him this time."  
  
"Oh, Merry, but you can. Don't you see?" Saradoc placed his hands on Merry's shoulders and turned the lad to face him. "You can help Frodo by giving him your best wishes, and being supportive of whatever he chooses as his best option. He will love you no less albeit from a distance, and all the more for accepting his decision."  
  
Wisely spoken, Merry knew, but it didn't make the pain in his heart go away. The darker thoughts he had held at bay were trying to force their way back into his mind as well. What if they didn't find Frodo? What if they had come too late to save him from the people who had taken him? It was all too much to bear, and Merry wouldn't speak of it.  
  
~*~Bree, morning~*~  
  
"They'll be comin' out right soon," Gavin observed, nodding at the house. It was about time for Aiden and Frodo to be starting out on their day's errands, and the two men watched from an alcove across the street.  
  
"We should be goin' in by th' back way," Fergus observed. "Too likely we'd be spotted tryin' th' front." That was the peril of a daylight break - in, he mused. Too many people about, too many eyes looking where they need not be.  
  
"Keep still!" Gavin hissed as the door of the house opened and a man and a hobbit emerged into the morning sunlight. Sickening, the way they were laughing and smiling at each other, Gavin thought. That fancy merchant was so proud of himself for rescuing that little imp from his terrible fate! Well, let him be proud in the next life, Gavin thought maliciously.  
  
They waited until Frodo and Aiden were out of sight around a corner before they made their way to the back of the house. A back door indeed existed, and Fergus looked at the simple lock and smiled. There was nothing here to keep a determined individual from entering the premises.  
  
Gavin had been watching the house for the last few days, and he knew the occupants wouldn't return until a few hours later. He and Fergus would have time to gather what they needed and maybe even have a pint in the meantime.  
  
They made their way back to the Prancing Pony, and Fergus stopped by his room to load up a small pack. Damn Dolan anyway, he thought as he unlocked the door. The traitor had moved out on him, leaving him to pay for the room on his own. Not that the smarmy coward had been such good company, but it was cheaper with two to share the cost.  
  
From a small leather case he withdrew a narrow blade and a long thin metal pin. There wasn't a lock in all of Bree that could stand against his skill with these tools, he surmised. He replaced them carefully in the case and tucked it into a pocket. It was too bad he didn't have any more of that sleeping drug they had used on the halfling before. If the little creature kicked this time, they would just have to slap him, he figured. He added rope and a couple of rags to use as blindfold or gag as necessary. Lastly, he threaded a dagger in a sheath to his belt. Swords were so large and clumsy to carry about.  
  
As he stepped out into the hallway, he heard a familiar, derisive laugh behind him. "Still at it, eh, Fergus?" Dolan smirked as he leaned casually against the opposite wall.  
  
"Shut yer 'ole, an' get outta th' way, Dolan." Fergus spoke calmly, but he made sure the dagger was within his reach.  
  
"Oh, I'll get out of your way, all right. I just wanted to see if you'd developed any sense at all since our last conversation." Dolan's tone was relaxed and easy, as if he were discussing the weather. "Still time to change your mind, you know."  
  
"An' why would I do that?" Fergus snorted. "I don't give a rat's hairy backside who that halfling has fer company, as long as there's gold innit fer me."  
  
"Suppose someone catches you at it. What then, hmm? You'll either be locked up or tossed out the gate, while I'm enjoying a pipe and a roaring fire." He straightened and stepped away from the wall he'd been leaning on. "Just something to think on, Fergus."  
  
"Think on this," Fergus growled, swinging at his former friend. The blow missed its target as Dolan sidestepped it nimbly, and Fergus' fist plowed into the wall instead. Jumping back and cursing a blue streak, Fergus snarled at Dolan. "So what do ye care 'bout it anyway? Are ye plannin' to rat us out?"  
  
"Me?" Dolan laughed again. "Oh, no. I'm just having too much fun watching you get in over your head." He smiled as he turned to leave. "If you succeed, good show. You'll have proven your cleverness. If I'm right and you fail, just remember, I told you so." He descended the staircase and disappeared into the common room below.  
  
Still cursing under his breath, Fergus thumped heavily down the stairs to join his compatriot. He'd need an ale after running into that stuck - up twit. One quick pint, then off to grab that halfling. They'd succeed, all right, and rub Dolan's nose in it in the process.  
  
~*~Later~*~  
  
"Patience, me friend," Fergus muttered as he held the thin blade in place and inserted the pin into the lock's mechanism. A look of intense concentration crossed his face as he moved the pin about in the lock and slid the blade between the door and frame just so. A moment later the concentration turned to triumph as he was rewarded with a soft click.  
  
As Fergus opened the door with a flourish, Gavin gave him a sour look and stepped cautiously inside. It would be a relief when the job was done and he could pay the smirking jester and be done with him.  
  
The house was empty and silent, and the footsteps of the two men echoed eerily as they moved from room to room. They decided it would be best if they stood in the hallway just beyond the small parlor. It was rather dark there, and the shadows would work to their advantage.  
  
The sun was slanting through the windows at a sharp angle by the time a key turned in the lock of the front door. Frodo entered first, pausing to slip the cloak from his shoulders. Aiden was right behind him, removing his own cloak and reaching down for Frodo's. He turned to hang them on the pegs by the door.  
  
Gavin and Fergus chose that moment to strike, stepping out of the darkness of the hallway and into the parlor. Frodo cried out sharply as large, meaty hands gripped him and lifted him from the floor. Aiden spun around at the sound and his eyes met with Fergus' cold gaze. He could feel the tip of the blade at his throat.  
  
"'Ello, remember me?" Fergus said, his tone just a little too light. "I missed yer little friend, an' my companion wants to get to know 'im better."  
  
At the mention of Frodo, Aiden recovered his voice. "You lay one finger on Frodo and I'll - "  
  
"You'll what, Mr. wealthy merchant?" Gavin sneered from across the room, as Frodo dangled, writhing in his grasp.  
  
"I'll pay you anything you ask," Aiden breathed. "Just let him be."  
  
Frodo's eyes were wide with terror, his heart nearly bursting in his chest. He struggled harder against the hands that held him, his voice bursting forth in a ragged shout. "NO!!!" His captor delivered a hard slap to his face, but he barely noticed, so fearful was he at the sight of the blade at his friend's throat.  
  
"We don't want yer money, fancy man. We're gonna take yer darlin' little halfling with us, though," Fergus taunted nastily. "Ye understand, me companion 'ere felt a wee bit slighted when ye showed up an' put yer nose into things."  
  
Aiden recognized the ugly, unkempt man he had outbid for the little hobbit. It was agonizing to see Frodo twisting in his grip now, fighting in a futile effort to free himself.  
  
"Release him, now!" Aiden's gaze met with Gavin's, and Frodo watched as the kind eyes he had come to know transformed into blazing orbs. "Take your hands off him immediately!"  
  
Fergus grabbed a handful of Aiden's collar and pulled him away from the wall by the door. He spun him around, backing him further into the room, toward where Gavin stood holding Frodo with one arm, his free hand clamped tightly over the hobbit's mouth. "Fat chance," Fergus said with a horrible grin.  
  
Whether it was the grinning rogue in front of him or the thought of Frodo in the hands of these vicious creatures that did it, Aiden seemed to snap. He moved with a speed born of pure fury to twist away from the knife and grab the hand that held it in a single motion. The blade had nicked him in the process, and he felt a trickle of blood welling just beneath his jaw.  
  
As Aiden grappled with Fergus, Frodo bit down on his captor's hand sharply, causing Gavin to bellow in pain and release him. "Aiden!" Frodo screamed, diving forward, intent on attaching himself to Fergus' back and clawing his eyes out if necessary. He didn't get far before Gavin grabbed him again and struck him. Stunned, Frodo fell to the floor and lay struggling to rise as Gavin moved past him to Fergus' aid.  
  
Still fighting Fergus for possession of the dagger, Aiden didn't see Gavin approaching him from behind, his sword drawn and raised. Gavin brought the solid hilt down on the merchant's head in a swift stroke, causing Aiden to crumple unconscious to the floor.  
  
"Elbereth, no!" Frodo whispered, the ruffians all but forgotten as he began to crawl toward the fallen form of the man who had been his friend and protector since his arrival in Bree. Fergus and Gavin moved toward him as one, each grabbing him roughly by an arm and dragging him back.  
  
"You've killed him!" Frodo sobbed, still struggling to break free. "Let me go!"  
  
"Stop yer twitchin'," Fergus ordered, backhanding the little hobbit. As Frodo reeled senselessly, his sight was blocked out by a piece of thick, dark cloth, and his hands were bound at his back. As Gavin moved to bind the hobbit's ankles he was met with a kick that narrowly missed a sensitive area.  
  
"Miserable imp," Gavin spat, giving Frodo another harsh slap. Frodo didn't feel the rope biting into his skin, nor did he feel himself lifted from the floor and wrapped in the folds of a rough cloak.  
  
The men emerged from the house with their burden, hurrying away through the back streets in the fading light. Frodo was as still and silent as the house the men left behind them.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	16. Allies

Bookworm2000 - With people like you pulling for him, Aiden has got to be all right! Yes, Dolan could have an opportunity to redeem himself to some degree if he does rat on Fergus.  
  
Distortion - That was a tough chapter. Certainly a bumpy ride for both Frodo and Aiden!  
  
Krista - You'll learn more of Aiden's fate in this chapter. I don't mind if you show up late with a review. You always show up, and that's the awesome part.  
  
Eiluj - Thank you for the answer to Camellia's question! I believe you're absolutely right about PJ's Bree and why it's so dark and so hobbitless. It really drives home the fact that the rest of Middle Earth is not the comfortable, safe place the Shire is. Comparing it to the Cantina scene in Star Wars was a great parallel.  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Eiluj found your other Gavin. He's in Tathar's story "Always a Silver Lining", and it sounds like he's a lot nicer fella than mine!  
  
Curious Cat - Frodo has indeed gone from the skillet into the fire. Hope for Dolan? There may be some yet. At least he's not hanging out with that wastrel Fergus anymore! Merry is facing a lot of changes in his life here. Not only is he growing up, he is having to face being separated from his longtime friend. These are things most of us have gone through too. I agree that the time lapse between chapters can be critical in keeping the tension going, and that's the number one reason for my daily posts.  
  
Iorhael - We'll see what happens to Aiden in this chapter, and it won't be long before you'll find out who is playing what role in saving Frodo.  
  
TTTurtle - I've wondered if the site has been a little off. Did it eat your first review of the last chapter? As I write this it still shows 14 chapters instead of 15, but as you discovered, 15 is there! There are certainly several possibilities regarding what could happen to Frodo now. Read on!  
  
Tavion - Oh, I know that was a nasty cliffhanger! My deepest apologies to Frodo for what I'm putting him through. He is definitely in a lot of danger. As for Aiden, your question regarding his continued existence is answered in this chapter.  
  
Ilmare - Yep. We got plot twists! This chapter is a busy one. Your questions about Aiden will be answered, we'll spend some time with Frodo, and you'll find out a little more about what Dolan is up to.  
  
Endymion - How true! These ruffians are not, as you said, 'in danger of brain damage from strokes of genius'! They've taken some fool chances, haven't they? Imagine taking for granted that a single - though vicious - blow to the head was enough to finish their opponent! Was it? I'll tell you soon. And hanging around in Bree playing 'tame the halfling' doesn't seem that brilliant of them. They are definitely overconfident regarding a lot of things, including how determined certain people are to keep Frodo from them. Who would search the whole town and risk deadly confrontation to save one little halfling anyway? Lots of people, it seems! Dolan was the brains of the outfit, and without him, they're just idiots!  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
Chapter 16 - Allies  
  
~*~The Inn of the Prancing Pony, late night~*~  
  
Three tired hobbits stood wearily at the desk waiting for the innkeeper. They had continued walking even after darkness fell, so close were they to their destination. The pony had been settled in the stables, and much needed rest beckoned to the trio as they stood in the foyer.  
  
"Late arrivals, and hobbits, no less!" Butterbur said with his eyebrows raised. His memory prodded him. Something about hobbits. What was it? Oh well. It would come to him later. "Welcome, Masters. How may I serve this evening?"  
  
"Accommodations for three, if you please," Bilbo said, casting his gaze about the room. A scattering of people remained in the common room at the late hour, but he saw no other hobbits.  
  
"Right this way," Butterbur said as he grabbed a key from behind the desk. "You've the look of a few days' journey about you," he noted conversationally. "Where have you traveled from?"  
  
"From Buckland," Saradoc replied wearily. He was past being interested in conversation right now, tired as he was. The innkeeper was certainly a sprightly fellow, however, and continued nattering to himself as they made their way to the room.  
  
"From the Shire then," Butterbur muttered. Again something nagged at him. Something about hobbits from the Shire -  
  
They reached the door of the room and, bidding the dithering innkeeper good night, the hobbits trudged in and allowed their packs to drop to the floor with heavy thumps. The room was comfortable enough, with a little hearth and three beds that looked very inviting after three nights of sleeping on bare ground.  
  
Merry was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, and the two older hobbits were in a similar condition. As the remaining hours of the night passed, they rested in an exhausted slumber, intent upon restoring their strength for the search that was to begin with the arrival of the daylight.  
  
~*~Somewhere in Bree, early morning~*~  
  
Frodo awakened to feel bare earth beneath his aching body, bits of dirt clinging to his cheek and hair. He tried to shake them away and realized his mistake a moment too late, as the motion set off an agonizing throbbing in his head and a wave of profound dizziness.  
  
Awareness returned slowly, and memory with it in bits and pieces. There had been voices, harsh and threatening, and someone attacking him from behind. His eyes began to sting with tears as he remembered the sight of Aiden falling limply to the floor after being struck by the sword hilt.  
  
~Eru, they killed him!~ Frodo thought miserably. Aiden had been so kind to him. What a cruel reward for such goodness! ~I have brought him only trouble and expense, and now death.~ The thoughts raced, unchecked through Frodo's mind as he lay in the darkness of the cellar. Would they kill him too? A part of him hoped they would, as it would end his own pain and keep him from bringing any more pain to others.  
  
They had blindfolded him before taking him from Aiden's home, he remembered. The blindfold was gone now, unnecessary in the all - consuming darkness of the cellar. It had been unnecessary altogether, he realized. He remembered being held down and kicking desperately at his assailants. He had not succeeded in doing any damage to them, but had only angered them instead. He remembered a harsh blow landing, then nothing. Had he been unconscious since then?  
  
He tried to sit up, but he was weak and dizzy, and all but completely immobilized. He had been bound with a cruel thoroughness, rough ropes wound around his ankles, knees, wrists and upper arms. The gag was dry in his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to spit it out and scream until his lungs burst with the effort.  
  
He heard a heavy thunk as the cross - beam that held the cellar doors closed was removed and dropped to the ground outside. The doors creaked open and light flooded the tiny underground space, blinding him momentarily. He could make out two dark shapes against the bright morning sunlight, advancing inexorably toward him.  
  
Frodo's pained cry was stifled by the gag as one of the men grabbed him and forced him to a sitting position. In the next instant, the gag was gone and water was being poured down his throat. Unprepared, he coughed and sputtered, but managed to swallow some of the liquid.  
  
A hand gripped his chin, forcing his head upward, and cold eyes gazed down into his, measuring. "He's dazed, but I don't think he's bad hurt," Gavin said as Fergus moved to stand behind him. "It was a shame to bruise that pretty little face of yours, halfling, but you should have kept still." Gavin leaned in closer and threatened, "You'll do as you're told from now on, mark me."  
  
Frodo turned his head sharply, breaking his captor's grip. He fought down the impulse to sob like a child. He wasn't a child anymore, he knew, and he must bear this bravely, if only to honor the memory of his friend.  
  
The hand was back, in his hair this time, pulling painfully. "You lookit me when I'm talkin' to you, boy!" This time a small cry escaped him as he was made to look into those hard dark eyes again. "I'm the boss here, and if you forget I'll remind you."  
  
Frodo didn't want to imagine what such a reminder would consist of, but at this point he thought he had a pretty good idea. "P - please! Let go. You're hurting me!" Frodo's plea seemed to please Gavin on some level, and he released the hobbit roughly. Frodo fell back limply against the dirt floor, breathing hard. He gathered his courage and looked up at Gavin and said one word - "Why?"  
  
"You belong to me. You should have been mine to begin with, but that smart - mouthed friend of yours had to get involved." Gavin stood over Frodo and glowered down at him. "Got what he deserved for not mindin' his own affairs!"  
  
"You killed him," Frodo accused, his voice a small, anguished whisper.  
  
"Maybe so, halfling. Would serve him right for interfering," Gavin said coldly. "Don't matter if he's alive or dead, 'cause you won't see him again."  
  
Those words cut Frodo more deeply than any blade could have. He closed his eyes against the sight of the man who claimed ownership of him, recalling the words Aiden had spoken to him. 'You are neither possession nor prisoner, Frodo.' But he was, wasn't he? He was both now, alone save the monster leering at him, and empty inside but for his fear and deep sense of loss.  
  
The man tied the gag back in place and turned to go, his companion following in silence for once. "Got a few things to do before we leave town, halfling. You'll stay here until you're ready to cooperate."  
  
Leave town? They were going to take him away and he would certainly never see Bilbo or Merry again if that happened! He tried to scream, but the muffled sound that emerged was lost in the noise of the cellar doors groaning shut. The light was gone.  
  
The man was right about one thing, Frodo thought dimly. Aiden should have stayed away from him. He should not have tried to help, for his efforts had come to naught in the end. Frodo lay in the dark with that thought gnawing at him, until he surrendered to a fitful sleep.  
  
~*~Aiden's home, Bree, the same morning~*~  
  
Blood. When Aiden gingerly touched his scalp at the back of his head, his hand came away crimson with a grim reminder of his failure. Frodo was gone. They had taken him, and Aiden had failed to protect him. Guilt washed over him despite the knowledge that the assailants had been armed.  
  
He rose to his feet slowly, dimly aware that the sun had risen. It was likely too late already, but Aiden felt he had to try to find the little hobbit who had come into his care. He leaned against the wall for support, his hand brushing the fabric of the cloak he had given to Frodo.  
  
Suddenly fury blazed within him and he slammed a fist against the wall in utter frustration. They would hurt that youngster, he was certain. They would torment him until he submitted to their will and gave up his spirit to the horrors of his enslavement. They would wring from him the last of his will, and break his gentle young soul.  
  
He forced himself away from the wall and into his room. Dipping a cloth into the water in the basin, he pressed it against his head to stop the bleeding. He noted gladly that he was not badly wounded. The cut on his neck was minor, and his head stopped bleeding quickly. He winced as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.  
  
Grabbing his cloak, he stepped out the door and walked as briskly as he was able toward the Inn of the Prancing Pony. He must see Butterbur and ask him if he had seen Frodo or the men.  
  
As he neared the inn, movement down a side street caught his eye. A dark - haired man stood leaning casually against the side of the building, smoking a pipe. Aiden's heart leapt as he recognized the man. He was none other than one of the men who had sold Frodo to him! And the man was looking at him now, regarding him with interest.  
  
Aiden crossed the street and walked straight toward Dolan, letting his eyes bore into Dolan's coldly. He ignored his massive headache and dizziness and closed the distance between them quickly, anger bringing new strength and purpose to his steps.  
  
"YOU!" he shouted at Dolan, grabbing him and slamming him back against the wall. "Where is he? What have you done with him?" Aiden barely recognized his own voice as he growled in Dolan's face.  
  
"Easy, friend," Dolan said, maintaining remarkable composure given his position. "If you speak of the halfling, I have had nothing to do with him since I accepted your offer."  
  
"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Aiden spat angrily. "That friend of yours was there, and that man you were about to sell the little one to. They've taken him. Tell me where if you want to walk away from this conversation unmarked."  
  
"Supposing that I even have the slightest bit of knowledge of where the halfling is. Why should I tell you?" Dolan favored him with a sly smile. "What's in it for me?"  
  
"Damn you!" Aiden snarled at him. "The lad's life is in danger and you can think of nothing but lining your purse with gold at his expense!"  
  
"No, more likely at your expense, I believe." Dolan kept smiling. "Would it not be worth, say, twenty gold pieces to know where they've taken him?"  
  
"I'll give you nothing. I should haul you before the constabulary this instant for your part in this," Aiden told him coldly.  
  
"And what of your part, my righteous friend?" Dolan reminded him icily. "You are as guilty, on the surface at least, of criminal activity as I. You laid down coin to purchase that halfling, or do you forget so easily? Such activities are frowned upon by the authorities here, unless I miss my guess."  
  
The scoundrel had a point. By purchasing Frodo, regardless of his motive for doing so, Aiden had been party to a punishable activity. The two men stood eye to eye, having reached a tense impasse.  
  
"If you turn me in, my good man, I shall certainly take you down with me," Dolan said flatly. "If you would like my assistance in finding the little one, my assistance is offered at a fair price."  
  
"And why are you so eager to thwart the efforts of your friends? Will you not turn against me as well, the moment there is gold in your greedy hands?" If Aiden's accusing tone had any effect upon Dolan, the effect was hidden masterfully.  
  
"Fergus is an idiot, plainly said," Dolan answered. "As for the other, I know him not, nor do I especially care to."  
  
"You were eager enough to work with Fergus when you took that poor lad from his home," Aiden observed. "Yet you want no part of this latest venture of his?"  
  
"Indeed, I do not," Dolan said evenly. "I am a practical man. The original sale of the halfling to you was merely a one - time opportunity that fell upon us without our seeking it. I am a traveling trader by profession, not a procurer of slaves or the like. To continue with such activities is more trouble than it's worth."  
  
"So you admit that what you did was despicable, selling Frodo as little more than a slave?" What little satisfaction Aiden derived from asking the question was denied him in the answer.  
  
"Such an unpleasant term, but very well. Call it what you will. I sold a slave and you bought one, my good man." Dolan's eyes narrowed unpleasantly. "You own him."  
  
The words slammed into him almost physically and Aiden choked out his reply through clenched teeth. "I do not own him. I would not! His freedom has been his own since the moment I took him from you."  
  
Dolan faked a yawn mockingly. "This conversation is getting boring, friend. Do you want my help or not?"  
  
"Fifteen gold pieces," Aiden said, his eyes locked with Dolan's.  
  
Dolan didn't flinch. "Twenty. Ten now, and the rest when you get your halfling back."  
  
"He's not my - " Aiden broke off the sentence, and released his hold on Dolan's coat. Loathsome as it was to accept the help of such an individual, he reluctantly conceded that it was his best chance of saving Frodo.  
  
Aiden stepped back, breathing deeply and unclenching his fists with an effort as Dolan brushed himself off. "Very well. I shall meet you here tonight to discuss the arrangements. You will receive the first part of the payment at that time."  
  
"I'm looking forward to it," Dolan replied as he turned and walked slowly away with unwavering confidence and infuriating bravado.  
  
Aiden stood alone, lost in thought for a moment. His original errand came back to mind and he continued on to the inn. Butterbur met him at the front, enthusiastic as always.  
  
"Master Aiden! Been some days since I've seen you here, it has." He grinned lopsidedly.  
  
"Indeed it has, Butterbur," Aiden replied quietly. "Do you remember what I said the last time we spoke? Have you encountered any more hobbits from the Shire?"  
  
A strange look crossed the innkeeper's face. Confusion morphed into recognition as he recalled the bit of information that had eluded him the previous night. Master Aiden had indeed asked him to send word if any hobbits from the Shire came through.  
  
"Why, just last night I received a trio who said they'd come from Buckland," Butterbur said, scratching his head. He was so lost in thought he failed to see the look of utter exasperation that crossed Aiden's face at his words. "Young lad, curly blonde hair, and two older gents. One was nigh on old age, if I may be so forward."  
  
"Butterbur, I told you to send them to me!" He shook his head slightly. "No matter, friend. Where are they? It is important that I speak with them immediately."  
  
"They've a room on the ground floor." Butterbur motioned for Aiden to follow him. "Like the lower floors, hobbits do," he droned on, but Aiden wasn't listening. Could these hobbits be Frodo's family? Part of him wanted it to be so, but another part cringed at having to tell them that Frodo was no longer safe in his care.  
  
They paused before the door, and Aiden thanked Butterbur, sending him on his way with a pointed look. Butterbur was a gossip of the first order, but he meant well. Aiden knocked lightly upon the door and steeled himself to deliver bad news.  
  
The door opened a crack, and an elderly hobbit with graying hair greeted him crisply. "Yes? Can I help you?"  
  
"I hope so," Aiden said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable under the sharp eyes of the hobbit. "Are you by chance friends or family of a young hobbit lad named Fro - "  
  
He didn't have time to finish the sentence. The door was flung open wide and the hobbit gripped his cloak and pulled him inside. Once in the room, he stood under the measuring gazes of all three, aware that he had their full attention.  
  
"What about Frodo?" Bilbo prompted him impatiently. "Where is the lad? Since you have sought us out, I take it he is not your prisoner." Bilbo raised his eyebrows as if to say his last statement had better be factual. "Is he in your care?"  
  
Aiden sighed. "He was, good sir, and was free to do as he pleased. We were attacked yesterday evening and he was taken."  
  
Looks of disbelief and horror passed from one hobbit to another, and fell to rest squarely on Aiden as he struggled with the guilt that assailed him. "May I sit, and tell you the tale?" he asked, and pulled a chair away from the table at Bilbo's nod of assent. He looked at the chair absently for a moment. Of course. Everything in the room was sized to the proportions of hobbits. He made his way to one of the beds and sat down on the edge.  
  
"My name is Aiden. You must be - " he hesitated. Which one was Frodo's uncle?  
  
"Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit with the graying hair answered. "With me are Saradoc Brandybuck, the Master of Buckland, and his son and Frodo's cousin, Meriadoc."  
  
"I have heard much about you," Aiden said, shaking the hands of each hobbit in turn. "Frodo has spoken very fondly of you." He proceeded to tell them how he had come upon Frodo, drugged and bound in the room at the inn, and had stepped in to claim him. "I could not do otherwise, seeing him so," he said grimly.  
  
Merry's eyes were glassy with shock as he listened to the man's tale of his cousin's plight. How could they have treated Frodo so cruelly? He was more determined than ever to tear strips off Reginard and Bargo for setting such a thing in motion. He kept his mouth closed and listened.  
  
Saradoc had seated himself as well, finding his legs a little unsteady at the news. As outrageous as the story had sounded at the Hall, he found himself hanging on the man's every word and believing all that he said. This man had an air of integrity to him, and Saradoc found him easy to trust. As Aiden's tale unfolded, Saradoc listened with growing trepidation.  
  
Bilbo paced restlessly, his eyes alternately lit with fire and doused with unshed tears. What had the poor lad been subjected to? If they had hurt Frodo, they would not soon forget the name of Baggins, nor the wrath that went with it.  
  
"So Frodo is back in their hands as we speak?" He said apprehensively, pausing in his pacing to look sidelong at Aiden with a sharp glance. "We must go and get him. Do you know where they are holding him?"  
  
"I do not, but I have managed to find someone who does. His help comes at a price, for he's a mercenary if one ever lived," Aiden said darkly. "I shall meet with him tonight. He will show me where they have taken Frodo."  
  
"You must return to us here when you have news," Bilbo said firmly. "We will accompany you when you go to Frodo's aid."  
  
"Master Baggins, you have had a long journey," Aiden said by way of protest. "These men are very dangerous. They are armed - "  
  
"My dear man, let me make you aware of something," Bilbo said, a hint of amusement coming into his voice. "I may be smaller than you, but I am a Baggins." Bilbo punctuated the sentence by jabbing Aiden in the chest with a forefinger. "I have stolen treasure right out from under a dragon's smoking snout, so I think I can manage a rescue mission." His hand moved to pat at the pocket of his weskit idly as he spoke.  
  
Aiden was impressed in spite of himself. Frodo had said this hobbit was something rather special, and there could be no doubt of it now. "Very well, Master Baggins. We shall face the enemy together."  
  
Aiden took his leave and went to his home to rest and prepare for his meeting with Dolan. That rogue had better be true to his word, he thought grimly.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	17. Plans

Krista - No, I didn't let them kill Aiden. How could I do that, when you guys like him so much? Poor Frodo, indeed. As to whether Merry will be allowed to join in the action, read on.  
  
TTTurtle - I had the same problem with the site all day too. Finally I gave up late last night and I uploaded the chapter again, hoping it would work. Looks like it finally did! Dolan is a mercenary, and as long as there's gain to be had, he might even take the high road! Frodo is pretty scared, and with good reason!  
  
Endymion - Exactly. 'Where there's a coin, there's a way.' Dolan would love to teach Fergus a lesson, and a few extra coins in his pocket wouldn't hurt his feelings either. Will he make it 'easy' for the rescuers? I don't know that 'easy' is quite the term. Much as it pains them to wait until evening, the cover of darkness would be safer for them. Frodo is in a pretty sad state right now, but he is a Baggins, and he has the Baggins spirit!  
  
Shirebound - Bilbo tells it like it is, doesn't he? When I wrote the part with him informing Aiden that he could deal with the rescue despite his size, I pictured Ian Holm as Bilbo in the movie, talking to Gandalf about Frodo - "He's a Baggins, not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle!" Same facial expression, same tone of voice. Ahh, Bilbo! Gotta love him!  
  
Midgette - Good to hear from you again! I've been updating pretty much daily to keep the momentum going. I write the story in its entirety before I start posting, so there isn't a long wait between chapters. You've also missed some bad behavior from the website, which delayed chapter 16 a little longer than planned!e  
  
Aratlithiel - Butterbur's forgetfulness caused some additional delay, but not enough for the hobbits to have saved Frodo from being taken. The attack occurred early in the evening and the hobbits didn't arrive until later that night. Still, if Butterbur had remembered to send them to Aiden, they might have been able to help him recover from his injuries and start looking for Frodo a little sooner. Although he doesn't see himself as a hero, Aiden is definitely ending up in that role here.  
  
Distortion - Things are indeed looking up in that Aiden is alive and Dolan seems to be discovering a little bit of decency within himself.  
  
Aelfgifu - Yes, Emma. You can love both Aiden and Evil Merry. You've got someone for your every mood! Glad you like Bilbo. He's so fun to write dialogue for. Hmmm, poor Frodo. Yes.  
  
Heartofahobbit - I really liked Butterbur in the movie. He was just too nice to get mad at, no matter what slipped his mind! Aiden is more noble than even he knows, and as for the personal redemption he seeks, I have plans for him!  
  
Bookworm2000 - Certainly something to celebrate, the fact that Aiden is ok! Frodo, however, is certainly not in his happy place right now. So many 'ifs'. IF Dolan chooses to do the right thing, IF Gavin doesn't leave Bree right away and IF Aiden and Bilbo get there in time! Let's all hope those 'ifs' come true! Don't want to meet up with Bilbo on a dark night? You shouldn't have any worries, as long as you're on his GOOD side!  
  
Iorhael - Yes, it was rather unfortunate for Bilbo to arrive just as Frodo lands in hot water again. Rather rude of Dolan to seek personal gain for helping Frodo, wasn't it? Somewhere in there does he have a shred of decency? Let us hope so.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Welcome back! Good vacation? As for Aiden getting there in time, time will tell.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Author's note - Caution! Much unkindness shown to our dear Frodo in this chapter.  
  
Chapter 17 - Plans  
  
~*~Bree, nightfall~*~  
  
Aiden paced quietly in the shadows. That trader had better show up as he'd promised. Was there really no other way to find Frodo besides trusting to such a man? Aiden reluctantly conceded that without Dolan's help, he and the hobbits would be without any leads regarding Frodo's whereabouts.  
  
Dry leaves crunched nearby, and Aiden looked up to see Dolan striding toward him. In a few moments, the two stood eye to eye, warily taking stock of each other in the complete absence of trust.  
  
"Well, friend and protector of halflings, are you ready to go and find that one of yours?" Dolan's voice carried the same hint of amusement and sarcasm as before, as if all of this were some game he enjoyed immensely.  
  
Aiden cringed inwardly, wishing the flippant rogue would leave off referring to Frodo as being his property. The idea was as repellent now as it ever had been. He fought back a sharp rebuke. "Please, just show me where they are holding Frodo."  
  
Dolan extended his hand expectantly. "Not a step forward until the bargain is properly sealed." Rolling his eyes, Aiden reached into his coat and pulled out a pouch containing ten gold pieces.  
  
"Very good," Dolan said, grinning and tucking the pouch away. "Follow me, and keep quietly to the shadows. If we are seen, it could go badly for us as well as for your little friend." Aiden nodded in acknowledgement and they started off through the darkened streets of Bree.  
  
As they walked, Aiden made mental note of the twists and turns and the landmarks along the way. They walked for at least half an hour, coming to the very farthest edge of the village. The area was sparsely populated and decrepit buildings lined the rutted, unpaved streets. Many of them were abandoned and the rest looked like their occupants would be wise to leave them.  
  
Dolan paused in the shadows and pointed up the road at a house that was clearly in the process of crumbling to rubble. "That's the place. I saw them go in and out of a root cellar off to the right of the house. My guess is that your halfling is there."  
  
"Your guess?" Aiden said sharply. "You have no proof to offer me for the price I'm paying you?"  
  
"My good fellow, I did not saunter up to the door and stick my head in," Dolan informed him. "Besides, I don't believe they had taken the little one yet at the time I followed them here. It seemed to me that they were making plans at that time, and they looked rather pleased with themselves. I think you can trust my information."  
  
"I certainly hope so," Aiden replied curtly. Twenty gold pieces was a high price for information drawn partly from conjecture. "Do you know anything of their plans?"  
  
"Now I admit I am guessing," Dolan replied. "Fergus goes where and when he will. Winter is coming and he will likely find a place with a warm fire and good ale to spend the colder months. Whether that will be here or not remains to be seen." Dolan intended to remain in Bree, so he suspected Fergus would move on. That was fine with him. "The other fellow - I never got his name - doesn't seem to be from around here. When we were discussing the sale of the halfling with him at the inn, he mentioned having come from somewhere south." Dolan looked pointedly at Aiden. "I think you had better act quickly if you want to save that halfling. It's my opinion that fellow will be clearing out and taking your little fellow with him."  
  
"Not if I have anything to say about it," Aiden growled, thinking about Frodo being forced to journey south with such a person.  
  
"You'd better have something to DO about it, friend," Dolan responded knowingly. "Have you any plans? Surely you don't intend to march in there alone and take the halfling out from under their very noses?"  
  
Aiden considered, then responded vaguely, "I have help. We shall meet as soon as I return this evening, and will likely make our move soon after." He was unsure at this point what kind of decisive action could be taken by a single man and some hobbits, but it was clear that they were to be the rescue party.  
  
Dolan nodded silently. There was something about this merchant that he liked, his adherence to principle, perhaps. Although Dolan himself would cast principle aside for the sake of gain, it fascinated him to meet one who seemed so adamantly against doing so. An interesting fellow, indeed.  
  
"Well, you seem to have the matter well in hand," Dolan said, motioning to Aiden to follow again. "I shall be at the Prancing Pony when - or if - you have the rest of my payment for me."  
  
Aiden paused, confused. "What do you mean, 'if'? I thought you expected the other half once we have Frodo back in our care."  
  
"Indeed, I do," Dolan replied seriously. "Provided you succeed. You cannot very well pay me the other ten gold pieces if you're killed in the attempt to save your friend, now can you?"  
  
Aiden felt a cold chill at Dolan's words. "No, I suppose I cannot," he replied, hoping his voice sounded steady.  
  
The two men merged with the shadows and made their way back to the inn, one idly calculating the odds of receiving the rest of his due, and the other preparing himself to do right by a friend in need, or to perish in the attempt. If those ruffians should gain the upper hand, Aiden thought, he would do his best to at least take one of them with him to the next life.  
  
~*~The cellar, a while later~*~  
  
It was cold. Frodo shivered in the damp cellar as the chill crept over him. His head no longer ached so badly and the dizziness had passed. What he was mostly aware of now were the uncomfortable chill and the cramps in his muscles.  
  
This was far worse than the time he had spent traveling with Dolan and Fergus on the road to Bree. That thought brought forth another. Where was the one called Dolan? He realized that he hadn't seen the other man with the two who had taken him from Aiden's home. He found himself being glad of the man's absence. Two were bad enough. Three would be nigh unbearable.  
  
The doors creaked open again, and when bright light failed to spill through them, Frodo realized night had fallen. Were they coming for him, to bundle him up and take him away under cover of darkness, never to see his home again? He pushed the thought away as the poisonous thing it was. He was close to despair, and dwelling on such things would certainly push him over the edge into that deep, dark chasm.  
  
In the pale light of a small lantern, Fergus stood with a tray in hand. It wasn't much of a meal, but how much could something as small as this halfling need to eat anyhow? He and Dolan hadn't fed the little imp a great deal on their journey and he had fared well enough it seemed.  
  
"Got somethin' fer ye halfling," he said, as he put the lantern down and stood over the bound hobbit. "I'm gonna let ye 'ave a bite to eat, but ye'll 'ave to behave yerself," Fergus warned as he ungagged Frodo.  
  
Fergus untied Frodo's hands and arms, but left his legs bound. Frodo realized unhappily that this afforded him no chance to escape. How far could he get with his feet immobilized? A thought struck him suddenly. Fergus wasn't too bright, and he'd been drinking. Frodo could smell the ale on the man's breath.  
  
Gathering his courage and trying to play the role of the meek prisoner, Frodo looked up at Fergus. "I, um - I need to - "  
  
Fergus laughed at him. "Well, I imagine ye do at that," he said, giving Frodo a wink. "I'll take ye fer a short walk, but don't ye be tryin' anythin' ye might regret."  
  
Eru, it was working! Frodo's heart began to beat faster in anticipation of getting outside the dank little cellar. With his feet unbound he had a fighting chance.  
  
Fergus did indeed unbind him, and helped him to stand. It was a few moments before Frodo could walk, as the circulation was restored to his limbs. Frodo moved forward as Fergus prodded him, carefully negotiating the cellar stairs. He was further encouraged by the fact that Fergus held the lantern in one hand and so had only one with which to hold onto him.  
  
Frodo allowed himself to be herded forward toward a stand of trees across the road. He hadn't exactly lied to the man, as he truly did need to relieve himself. The idea of doing so within arm's reach of Fergus was repellent to him, but there was no way the ruffian was going to let go of his collar.  
  
Frodo kept his back turned to Fergus during the procedure, but he still felt his face reddening. The fingers gripping his collar began to move upward to stroke the nape of his neck and he tried to shrug them away, revulsion filling him completely.  
  
"Aww, whatsa matter?" Fergus drawled. He tightened his fingers on Frodo's collar again. "Yer not afraid or nothin', are ye?" He pulled Frodo back against him in a mockery of an embrace. Almost without thinking, Frodo slammed his elbow backward, and judging by the sound Fergus made as he doubled over, at least some damage had been done.  
  
Frodo bolted as Fergus shouted curses and rose clumsily to his feet. The nimble hobbit had a good start on him, running back through the trees toward the road. Fergus gave chase, shouting slurred threats all the while.  
  
He'd made it! Frodo felt elation rush through him as he ran down the darkened street. He would make for the nearest inn and ask the innkeeper for help. Surely the local authorities would -  
  
The thought was broken off as he rounded a sharp corner and crashed headlong into something. He bounced back, stunned, to land squarely upon his rear end in the street. To his absolute horror, he stared up into the livid features of Gavin.  
  
"I can't step away for a second, can I?" He growled fiercely as he made a grab for Frodo. "I don't know for sure how you got loose, but I got a good guess." He threw his head back and bellowed, loud enough to make Frodo wince. "FERGUS!"  
  
Frodo scrambled backwards in terror as the big man reached for him. His retreat brought him directly into the waiting arms of Fergus, and he writhed and fought as Gavin approached. A stinging slap quelled his protests, and a face twisted with rage leered down at him.  
  
"I told you, halfling, I am the boss here," Gavin growled. "Seems you need remindin' already!" His gaze flicked to Fergus. "And you, you great ass! I can't trust you to keep hold of a helpless halfling for a few hours?" Gavin had just returned from making a run for supplies, and his pack bulged with items purchased for a journey south.  
  
Fergus began to stammer out a half - hearted defense, but was spared the effort as Gavin pulled some rope from his pack and grabbed Frodo by one arm. "Over there, in the trees." He gestured toward the copse of trees where Frodo had slipped free of Fergus.  
  
"NO!" Frodo's scream pierced the chilly air as the men dragged him toward two small trees, standing close together. His captors bound him between the trees, his arms stretched out to his sides and above his head, drawing him upward so that he was barely able to stand on tiptoe. Gavin stood before the terrified hobbit, and removed his thick leather belt.  
  
"Don't know your place, then? You're about to learn it," he threatened, glaring at Frodo in fury. Gavin circled around behind Frodo, pausing to stretch the belt, snapping it loudly in the air. Frodo's eyes widened in despair as he realized what was about to happen.  
  
"NO! Please, I won't run away again, I promise!" he pleaded, trying to crane his neck around for a look behind him. He couldn't see Gavin, but he could hear his voice.  
  
"Too late, halfling," Gavin said, swinging the belt. He drew back and lashed Frodo hard across the shoulders. As Frodo writhed and screamed in agony, Gavin shouted at him, "Who is in charge here?" Crack! The belt seared into Frodo's back again. "I can't hear you, so you better speak up and tell me! WHO is the BOSS?!" Gavin struck again, without mercy.  
  
"Y-You are!" Frodo cried desperately. His cheeks burned with shame and tears as he cried out. At this point, he would say anything to make the man stop beating him.  
  
"Damn straight!" Whack! Gavin punctuated the statement with another strike. "You are nobody! You are property, boy! Who owns you?!" When Frodo did not answer immediately, the leather strap came down again, drawing blood through the thin fabric of his shirt.  
  
"Aaahh! Please, no more!" Frodo begged, now hanging limply between the two trees. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought to remain conscious as another blow fell and tore him.  
  
"Answer me, damn you! Who do you belong to?!" A whoosh, a snapping of leather against tortured flesh.  
  
"You - " Frodo breathed, his voice no longer cooperating. "I be - belong to y - you."  
  
"Don't you forget it, either!" Gavin coiled the belt again and drew his arm back. "You don't talk back, and you damn well better not try running again!"  
  
The leather strap struck again and again, sometimes accompanied by a demand for Frodo to speak some loathsome self - deprecation, but many times without any words at all from its wielder.  
  
At last, Gavin walked back around the trees and stood facing his tormented captive. He grasped the hobbit's hair and pulled his head up, looking into Frodo's glassy eyes. "You will obey me, and you will call me Sir. Is that clear?"  
  
Frodo struggled through a red haze of humiliation and pain. He tried to speak, but words would not come.  
  
"I said, is - that - CLEAR?" Gavin raised his voice and his hand simultaneously, preparing to strike Frodo again.  
  
"Yes," Frodo whispered.  
  
"Yes WHAT?"  
  
"Yes," Frodo swallowed hard. "Sir."  
  
"Cut him down," Gavin ordered, and Fergus drew his dagger to saw through the ropes. Frodo crumpled in a miserable heap against the ground, bleeding and spent. He hadn't the strength to fight as he was dragged back toward the cellar.  
  
"Miserable little fool," Gavin sneered as he and Fergus threw the cellar doors open and hauled Frodo down the stairs. "Slaves that flee their masters are usually killed for their insolence," Gavin informed a nearly unconscious Frodo while binding his hands again. "Remember that the next time you decide to stand up to your betters."  
  
Frodo could feel his own blood trickling down his back from his wounds. He didn't think he could remain conscious much longer, as burning pain wracked him. Large, calloused hands bound his ankles once more, completing the task of rendering him captive once again.  
  
After replacing Frodo's gag, Gavin turned to Fergus. "No food for him tonight. He has to learn that he lives or dies on my say so." Fergus nodded and retrieved the tray.  
  
Gavin turned back to his captive. "You do as I say and behave yourself from now on, and we won't have to repeat this lesson." He leaned closer. "If I have to teach you a second time, this will seem like a mother's tender caress."  
  
The men turned and exited the cellar, and the last of Frodo's strength went with them. Shadows approached and gathered him up, carrying him beyond his pain and despair as he blacked out.  
  
~*~Aiden's home, Bree~*~  
  
After taking his leave of Dolan, Aiden stopped at his house and spent a short while digging through forgotten spaces for things he had never needed until now.  
  
He drew a battered, rusty sword from under the bed, and unsheathed it slowly. It had been new and gleaming once, long before his birth. It had come to him through generations, and he had stowed it away in hopes of passing it down to his own son. That was not to be, he thought sadly, testing the blade lightly with the pad of his thumb. He didn't press down hard enough to cut himself, but he could tell the blade was still capable of slicing through -  
  
He closed his eyes. Never a violent man in any sense, he hated the thought of wielding the weapon, even in defense. He reminded himself that his foes would scarcely hesitate to bury steel in his flesh. He wiped the blade with a cloth, bringing back some of its former sheen.  
  
Next, he opened the trunk at the foot of the bed and removed a pair of long ceremonial daggers with carved hilts. He hadn't noticed that the hobbits carried any armament with them, and if they truly insisted on accompanying him to free Frodo, they must have something for protection. These would be long enough to serve as swords of a fashion in the hands of the diminutive Shire Folk.  
  
What about the young one who was with them? The lad with the bright eyes and golden curls? No, Aiden determined, Frodo's young cousin must not join the rescue party. They would need him to prepare for their arrival back at the inn.  
  
With the weapons in hand, Aiden emerged into the parlor and stopped before the hearth, gazing once again upon the faces of his lost family. "Your love I will know always," he said softly. "If my time to join you again has come, I pray I will be guided to you." He touched the frame of the portrait reverently, then turned toward the door.  
  
As he pulled the door open, a wind blew in and the fabric of the cloak he had given to Frodo brushed against his arm. He stared at it for a moment, then grabbed it from the peg on which it hung. He walked out and slammed the door behind him, sending fallen leaves scattering across the stoop.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	18. Going Forth

Aelfgifu - Since your 'sneak peek' at the last chapter, I did revise and up the angst level. As for Aiden, I don't think he'd have any trouble getting a date around here. I think I see a line forming!  
  
Pansy Chubb - Glad to have you aboard! Interesting that you should say I haven't been too heavy - handed yet in your review of chapter 16. I turned around and just blew that in chapter 17, didn't I? You're right when you say this story isn't fluffy in general, but there may be some nice comforting fluff to look forward to yet, even after all the angst.  
  
Kay - Another newcomer! As you see, I update frequently to keep the flow of the story moving, so if you're eager for the next installment, you'll see it soon!  
  
Girlofring - Another reader comes forth! I am glad you've been reading my stories, even if you haven't reviewed. I've got a couple of them posted on Library of Moria as well as on ff.net, and I hope they are being read there too. The last chapter was quite sad, but I promise brighter times ahead as we continue. Please stay with us.  
  
Bookworm2000 - Frodo will survive, certainly, but he's a bit the worse for his experiences right now. We'd better get Bilbo over there in a hurry!  
  
Heartofahobbit - Frodo made a good attempt to escape from those villains, but with no luck. You can bet Bilbo will be pretty mad when he finds out about Frodo's treatment. Will this cause him to mind more carefully how much storytelling he does and what he says? It just might! After all, he should mention that not every place in Middle Earth is Rivendell!  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Yes, I'm bad. I let Frodo get all comfy and safe, and then I yanked him back and put him squarely in harm's way again. Poor lad!  
  
Endymion - Fergus hasn't got the first clue about hobbits and how much they eat, if he thinks Frodo's appetite will match his size! I imagined that Bree, like many populated places, has good neighborhoods and bad ones. Where Frodo is now, even if anyone heard him scream, they probably wouldn't do anything about it. They'd be likely to think it was another street fight or domestic disturbance. Also, they're probably hiding from the authorities too, so they wouldn't call on them to investigate and bring attention to themselves in the process. Sadly, that same mindset persists among people today - "It's not my business and I'm not getting involved."  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Yeah, these ruffians could go head to head with the orcs at Cirith Ungol when it comes to seeing who can be more cruel! I have a hunch Frodo would have had a worse time of it in the tower if they hadn't been ordered to just keep him there for the time being. I thought about going back to present time for Sam's reaction here, but I decided to wait. The format I've followed so far was to tell one mini - story all the way through, then go back to Merry, Sam and Frodo at Bag End. I've decided to keep going in that direction, but we will get to hear what Sam has to say about all this!  
  
Aratlithiel - Thanks for your comments on the last chapter. I wanted Frodo's punishment to be suitably horrifying, but without gratuitous violence. Glad to know it worked! Poor feisty Frodo, he at least had to try, didn't he?  
  
Pansy Chubb - Aiden is a little outnumbered here when it comes to the size of his help, certainly. One reason he hasn't recruited any friends to help is that he is painfully aware of the truth of Dolan's statement that he could be accused of illegal activity in purchasing Frodo, good intentions or no. He feels that this is something he has to take care of himself. Good point! I ought to have made that more clear in the story.  
  
DiamondTook - Hello! I know I leave you hanging every time. So mean of me to do that! Thanks for your praise of my writing. I've always enjoyed it as a hobby, but this is the most I've done in a long while!  
  
TTTurtle - I don't know whether you're going soft or I'm becoming a better angst writer. All I know is, Frodo needs a big hug and I'd like to give it to him as much as you would. The poor lad has never experienced anything so harsh as this, and you can bet he's in a state of both physical and mental shock over it.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 18 - Going Forth  
  
~*~Bree, nighttime~*~  
  
If anyone at the Prancing Pony thought it an odd thing to see a man with a grim expression walking in carrying several weapons in one hand and a child - sized forest green cloak in the other, they gave no sign. The folk in the common room laughed, drank, cursed and sang, oblivious to all else around them.  
  
Aiden strode on through the common room and down the corridor that led to the ground - floor room the hobbits occupied. He knocked and Merry admitted him. Bilbo was waiting for him, pacing restlessly and smoking his pipe. "Well, did you see him?" Bilbo asked sharply.  
  
"No, Master Baggins, I did not see Frodo," Aiden admitted. "I do know the location where they are holding him." Aiden laid the weapons down on the table as he continued. "There is a small house and a root cellar, where I believe we will find Frodo."  
  
Bilbo looked at the cache of weapons on the table, then gazed back at Aiden. "If I am to wield one of those by your side, Aiden, you must dispense with formalities and call me Bilbo."  
  
"Very well, Bilbo," Aiden answered quietly. He could tell by the aged hobbit's expression that Bilbo loved Frodo very much. The man's resolve was strengthened by that knowledge, and by the determination that Frodo must be returned to his family.  
  
"I fear you will find I am not a renowned swordsman," Aiden remarked as he studied the weapons again. "If we are fortunate, we will catch them away or unawares."  
  
"I don't care if we catch them doing unnatural things to each other, just so long as we catch them!" Bilbo's vehement words rang out stridently, and Aiden smiled in spite of himself.  
  
"What have you got planned?" Saradoc stepped forward, mentally noting that there were three blades on the table, not four. It was needless to say that he approved. Merry was not going to be allowed to face those ruffians!  
  
"I suggest we move as quickly as possible. My informant tells me that these men are not local residents, and they may be planning to take Frodo out of Bree very soon." He handed the daggers to Bilbo and Saradoc. "I failed to notice any weaponry here upon my last visit, and I fear it may be necessary."  
  
The moment Saradoc had been fearing arrived suddenly, as Merry commented, "Where's mine?"  
  
Saradoc closed his eyes and spoke as he placed the dagger back on the table. "I will not have you in harm's way, Meriadoc. Now please, do not argue."  
  
He might as well have asked the sun not to rise. "But Father, you've allowed me to make this journey. I must help rescue Frodo!" The determined look on Merry's face belonged on older features.  
  
"These men are very dangerous, young Merry," Aiden said patiently. "We know you wish to help your cousin, but it must be in another way."  
  
"Another way?" Merry was obviously crestfallen. "But - "  
  
"But nothing, lad," Saradoc said, his tone firm. "If this man says it will be too dangerous, I am inclined to believe him."  
  
Bilbo spoke up. "Speaking of danger, Saradoc, I think it may not be the best of plans for the Master of Buckland to go marching into a confrontation either."  
  
Saradoc raised one eyebrow. "Are you attempting to protect me also, Bilbo?" There was a touch of amusement in his voice, as well as something that suggested mild annoyance.  
  
"What if I am?" Bilbo didn't flinch under Saradoc's scrutiny. "It makes perfect sense and you know it." He shook his head. "To think you call me stubborn!" Bilbo looked at Saradoc soberly as he continued. "It wouldn't do to have something untoward happen to the Master of Buckland at this time. Merry has not reached his majority yet, and the last thing the Shire needs is to have Brandy Hall in contention."  
  
Merry looked a little pale and Saradoc frowned. Need Bilbo frighten the lad with such talk? However, the elderly hobbit had a point. Besides, if Merry were to remain behind at the inn, Saradoc would much rather that he not do so alone. "I see your logic, Bilbo," he said with a sigh. "But that leaves only you and Aiden to face them. Are you sure that would be wise?"  
  
Bilbo considered this as he paced to and fro. "We would indeed be reduced in strength without you, but you must consider our personal circumstances." He frowned and continued pacing the floor. "I am an eccentric, elderly bachelor without children who depend on me, Sara. You, on the other hand, have a wife and child who love and need you. If something happens to me, it will hardly cause a stir." He held up a hand to forestall any arguments. "I have been blessed with more than my share of living, and if I am to find my time at an end now, I should like to know that no one else has followed me to my fate in an untimely fashion."  
  
Bilbo changed the subject, going back to the task at hand. "That being said, I have some tricks up my sleeve. It will be quite late when we get there, and they may be asleep. If we are stealthy, we may even be able to accomplish our task without them taking notice."  
  
Aiden nodded. Besides, what else could they do? He himself had kept his own counsel regarding how Frodo came into his keeping. He would have a lot of explaining to do if he were to attempt to recruit help outside this small circle. Sadly, Dolan was correct that there would likely be trouble over his purchase of Frodo. If he went to the authorities, he would have to explain himself, and there was the chance that they would detain him rather than allowing him to go to Frodo's aid. He felt responsible in part for the wretched turn of events, and it was his task to redeem himself for allowing Frodo to fall into the hands of such people.  
  
Merry looked askance at his father, who gave him a warning look in return. The young hobbit seemed ready to speak, but thinking better of it, he looked at the floor instead. He'd come so far, only to be held back. He sighed, remembering Bilbo's lecture at the ferry. He had a feeling the elder hobbit was never intending to let him help with a rescue attempt because it would put him in harm's way.  
  
"We will leave one of these weapons in your keeping, in case anything untoward should happen," Aiden said, fervently hoping the measure was unnecessary. "I also suggest you prepare some items for our return." He didn't wish to alarm them, but he had a feeling they would find that Frodo was in need of care. He listed a number of provisions including clean cloths and water, tea with medicinal herbs and basic food items.  
  
"Let us be off," Bilbo said crisply. "We're wasting time!"  
  
Aiden nodded as he strapped the sword to his belt and let his cloak fall over it, hiding it from view. Wordlessly, he and Bilbo walked out the door, leaving Merry and Saradoc to go about preparing for Frodo's arrival.  
  
~*~  
  
Dolan had just come downstairs and ordered an ale. He was sitting contentedly in the corner, enjoying the frothing beverage, when he caught sight of Aiden and the hobbit. Dolan shook his head incredulously. That foolish merchant had naught for assistance but an elderly halfling! He'd had a feeling something like this was going to happen.  
  
Sighing and rising from his chair, he made his way out into the night to follow them. It was not that he cared one way or another, he told himself, except for receiving the final half of his payment. If that fool got himself killed, Dolan was out ten gold pieces, after all.  
  
~*~The cellar~*~  
  
Frodo was lying on his stomach, trying to keep from moving or letting anything harder than the fabric of his shirt touch his injured back. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but the pain was still a sharp reminder of the abuse he had suffered earlier. Fortunately, all the damage seemed to be from the middle of his back to his shoulders. His bound hands rested against the small of his back, not touching any of the painful spots.  
  
He didn't know what was worse, the pain of the lashing Gavin had given him, or the humiliation of the words that had been forced from him during the process. To have to speak with respect to such an individual galled him as surely as the belt had, and to have to admit to being the ruffian's property was harder still.  
  
He was startled from his thoughts as the cellar doors opened again. He knew Gavin was there by the sound of the footsteps on the stairs. He kept his eyes closed and lay motionless, waiting for what was to come.  
  
"You awake, boy?" Gavin said, prodding Frodo with a foot. Still gagged, Frodo could not respond verbally. He settled for opening his eyes, two slivers of blue showing from under the lids.  
  
"Just makin' sure you learned your lesson earlier," Gavin said, ungagging the hobbit. "What did you learn, boy?"  
  
Frodo struggled to speak, as pain and exhaustion assailed him. When he found his voice, he was inwardly dismayed by how weak it sounded. "I - I - "  
  
"Come on and talk," Gavin ground out, placing his booted foot against Frodo's side and rolling him onto his wounded back.  
  
"AAHHH!" Elbereth, that hurt! Frodo cringed and gritted his teeth as his back and hands made contact with the hard dirt floor of the cellar.  
  
"So, you still got a voice after all," Gavin said, looking down at him. "Hurts, does it?" He grabbed Frodo's forearms and sat him up, glaring all the while. "Answer me!" He raised his hand.  
  
"Yes, yes it hurts!" Frodo said through his clenched teeth.  
  
Gavin shook him. "Yes, what, halfling?" Another shake, jarring his sore muscles.  
  
"Y-yes Sir." Frodo's eyes were downcast as he spoke. He needed this to be a bad dream, and looking at the cruel man made him real.  
  
"Look at me," Gavin commanded, as if reading the hobbits thoughts, and Frodo raised his head reluctantly. "That's better. You remember the rules, and you'll be all right. If you forget - " he didn't finish the sentence, but fingered the buckle of his belt, his eyes drilling into Frodo's.  
  
Frodo decided to ask. The worst he could hear in response would be a refusal. "Would you please untie me?" Having his arms pulled behind him set his shoulders at an off angle and caused his back to hurt even more.  
  
"And have you digging your way out?" Gavin's eyes narrowed. "Forget it, halfling."  
  
Before he could stop himself, Frodo blurted, "My name is Frodo."  
  
"You don't have a name anymore, halfling!" Gavin shouted at him harshly. "You are nothing and you have nothing!"  
  
Salt poured upon the now reopened wounds on his back could not have been more painful to Frodo than those words. Could this man really do that to him? Take away who he was and reduce him to something so low? "No," Frodo whispered aloud.  
  
"What did you say?" Gavin grabbed the front of Frodo's tattered shirt and leered into his face. "You said somethin', I heard you!" He tightened his grip, causing the shirt to rub against the welts on Frodo's back.  
  
Pain and desperation caused Frodo's next words to come out in a rush, an outpouring of denial of his enemy, an affirmation of self and of being. "No! I said NO!" Tears stood in his eyes. "You cannot take that from me! You cannot buy it or sell it! You - "  
  
A resounding slap stemmed the tide of Frodo's outcry, knocking him back against the cellar floor. His head struck the hard - packed dirt, and he lay stunned and silent. Gavin gagged him again, and kicked him once for good measure.  
  
"Don't test me, you little rat," Gavin said angrily, pointing a forefinger into Frodo's face. "I'll take you out and whip you again, and you won't be talkin' when I'm done." He turned and left, slamming the doors shut with a resounding bang that sounded to Frodo like the final pronouncement of his sentence to misery.  
  
How he longed for the Shire, and even for Brandy Hall! His first glimpse of the world beyond his home was not a pleasant one, overall. Still, there had been Aiden's bright, cheerful home, and the hobbits who kept the shops in town. They had all been quite pleasant. Was the world around him balanced equally between good and evil, or did the evil have the upper hand?  
  
Alone in the cold cellar, Frodo gave in and allowed his tears to fall. He gave himself permission to free his fear, sorrow and anger, to unburden himself of them. As they were drained from him, Frodo could feel something else filling the emptiness they left in their wake.  
  
It was something harder, like steel tempered in a white - hot furnace. There was something within him that none of this evil could touch, and he knew that now. He held onto it, curling himself around its comforting, unyielding presence.  
  
~*~later~*~  
  
"There it is," Aiden whispered, pointing at the dilapidated house from the cover of the trees across the way. "If you look carefully, you can see the root cellar off to the right," he instructed. The light of the moon illuminated the area, and they could just make out the raised entrance to the cellar, close to the ground and almost hidden by the tall grass.  
  
Bilbo nodded and gripped the hilt of the dagger more firmly. The thought of Frodo alone in that dark cellar made him so angry, it took all his willpower not to dash across the road that very second.  
  
Light still shone from a window in the shabby house. Someone was still awake, increasing the danger that they might be seen. "Do those ruffians ever sleep?" he grumbled as he glared at the house. "Dare we wait longer in hopes that they shall?"  
  
"I fear that if we wait, our chance will be past," Aiden answered tightly. "Travel by night may well be their plan. If so, there is not a moment to be lost." They must be quick, he thought grimly. He closed his eyes briefly, imagining throwing open the doors of the cellar, plunging into the darkness and snatching Frodo from his grim prison.  
  
Bilbo nodded. "A pity we could not have come earlier, but the risk was too great." Bilbo was thinking of Aiden as he spoke. Men were not as stealthy as hobbits in general, and Aiden did not have certain - advantages, for lack of a better term. Bilbo restrained himself with difficulty from reaching into the pocket of his weskit.  
  
Daylight would have been a very dangerous time to attempt the rescue, with the greater likelihood of people being out and about to notice the proceedings. Might some of those people have assisted them, the hobbit wondered? Most likely not, since he doubted this decrepit neighborhood was filled with people of good character. "Let us make haste," Bilbo said in a determined tone.  
  
Aiden gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword by his side. It was cold against his palm, unfamiliar to him. For Frodo's sake, he mustn't falter. He and Bilbo moved forward silently toward the cellar as the darkness closed in around them.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	19. A Struggle in the Moonlight

Gayalondiel - Oh, I've done terrible things to Frodo, haven't I? Gavin and Fergus definitely deserve to get their comeuppance!  
  
Aelfgifu - Frodo is definitely experiencing some real misery right now. We have to save him! Merry fully expected to be going along to help the rescue party. Merry and Saradoc do certainly have a part to play, whether it's what you might think or no.  
  
Krista - Fergus and Gavin are definitely not the type to give up without a ruckus. You will see Dolan again, and that's all I'm gonna say. Mean of me, but this chapter reveals all!  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - I like Aiden more and more too. He's just a nice guy, through and through.  
  
Curious Cat - Saradoc will deal with Bargo and Reginard, rest assured. Redemption for Dolan? There is always hope!  
  
Midgette - Bilbo definitely won't like what they've done to Frodo. Run? Oh, they had better run and hide!  
  
Endymion - Bilbo would love to have Sting with him right now. True, he had no idea a routine visit to Buckland would end up like this! Poor Merry has a lot of forces arrayed against his youthful enthusiasm. Dolan is certainly experiencing something close to an attack of conscience. Don't tell him that, though. He'll deny it! Will Bilbo have to use the Ring? An intriguing possibility!  
  
QTPie -2488 - Ah, reviewer of many chapters! Welcome back, I missed you! I don't think I could have handled it if Aiden had been killed either. I like him too! You had a feeling way back at chapter 15 that Dolan would be back? Good intuition! Gavin is way meaner than Dolan and Fergus were, certainly. Fergus has the potential for meanness, but his stupidity gets in the way.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Frodo can't help standing up for himself. He's just got that kind of spirit. And Bilbo has the Ring, all right!  
  
GamgeeFest - Thanks for joining us and reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Thanks for the geography tip! That was never my best subject. I should have been clearer in explaining that the men were actually on the Shire side of the Brandywine when Bargo and Reginard met them earlier in the story. Whether they belonged in the Shire is wholly open to conjecture, but as traders, they may have had folk to buy and sell from/to on both sides of the river.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 19 - A Struggle in the Moonlight  
  
~*~The Prancing Pony, Bree~*~  
  
Merry moved the washbasin closer to the bed and lay the clean cloths atop it carefully. He stood staring at them, wondering why they were needed. The thoughts that flooded his mind were terrible and he tried to shut them out. The corner of the room had begun to look like the healer's rooms at Brandy Hall, ready to receive a patient who was sick or - or injured.  
  
Saradoc tended the fire at the hearth and placed a kettle full of water nearby, ready to be heated at a moment's notice. He felt terrible guilt for not accompanying Bilbo and Aiden on their errand, but he knew it was wiser for him to remain at the inn. He couldn't leave Merry there by himself, for the lad had already proven himself willing to follow others into danger even if he had been ordered not to.  
  
He turned from the fireplace, meeting Merry's gaze. "I'm scared," Merry told him simply. "I'm afraid they won't find Frodo, or they'll find him but too late. I'm scared that something bad will happen to them. " He sat on the bed and smoothed the covers carefully, not looking up.  
  
"I know, Merry lad." Saradoc seated himself next to his son. "I'm scared too."  
  
"You are?" Merry did look up at those words, the last ones he expected to hear from his father. His father was the Master of Buckland, and a bastion of strength and iron will. He kept order at the Hall with a fair but firm hand, and commanded the respect of all who knew him.  
  
"I would be a fool were I not," Saradoc replied. "Fear is a natural response, Merry. Everyone feels it, and it is nothing to be ashamed of." He looked directly into his son's eyes. "It is important that fear does not overwhelm hope at times like these."  
  
Merry nodded and sat up a little straighter. Fear must not overwhelm hope. And there was still hope, wasn't there? There had to be!  
  
"Hope with me, Meriadoc. Frodo will return to us." Merry spoke nothing further. He and his father sat together, Saradoc's arm around Merry's shoulders. Their thoughts and hearts went out from them, through the darkened streets of Bree to an unnamed location where they knew something was happening in their absence.  
  
~*~  
  
"I swear, that halfling ain't such a bargain after all," Gavin groused. "He's got himself a mighty big attitude for such a little rat." He paced the floor, looking displeased.  
  
"Don't be worried," Fergus counseled him. "It might take a while to break 'im in, but 'e's gonna get tired o' lackin' fer food an' comfort." Fergus took a prodigious swallow of his ale.  
  
"You'd better be right, you ale sponge," Gavin said, glowering. "I don't intend on stayin' in Bree for the winter just waiting for that creature to fall in line. He'd better learn the order of things right quick, if he knows what's good for him." His pacing took him near the window and he paused, gazing through the layers of grime that had accumulated on the pane.  
  
"See somethin'?" Fergus asked, hoping for a negative answer. It was fairly warm in the house and he'd a fresh ale on the table. It would be a shame to have to go out into the cold now.  
  
"Might be nothing, but let's check it out," Gavin said, still staring out the window. "Thought I saw something moving out there."  
  
Dammit, Fergus thought sourly. Back out into the cold, and for what? To run a stray dog off the property, more than likely. He grabbed his dagger and stomped to the door. Might as well be the first one out. Maybe then he'd be the first one back in as well.  
  
~*~  
  
The cellar was barred by a thick wooden crossbeam, and it took Aiden a moment to wrestle it aside. It fell to the ground with a heavy thump, scattering dewdrops from the grass as it landed.  
  
Bilbo and Aiden glanced at each other and each of them grasped the handle of one of the heavy wooden doors. They began to pull them open, peering intently into the darkness beyond. "Frodo!" Bilbo hissed into the darkness. "Frodo, lad, are you there?"  
  
In the darkness of the cellar, Frodo stirred at the sound of the voice calling to him from atop the stairs. His mind was foggy with pain and it seemed to him the voice was coming from a long way off. Maybe he was dreaming. Yes, dreaming. That had to be it.  
  
It had almost sounded like Bilbo's voice, but that was absurd. Bilbo wasn't there. How could he be? Frodo was sure that everyone he loved could not possibly be farther from him than they were at that moment. Bilbo, Merry, Aiden, his parents - they were all memories, nothing more.  
  
The moonlight shining down above and behind Aiden and Bilbo only lit the first two stairs going down into the cellar. As Bilbo took a cautious step forward, intending to descend the stairs to confront whatever lay in the darkness below, the moonlight dimmed as something blocked it.  
  
Bilbo and Aiden whirled to find Fergus standing before them with a sneer on his face and his dagger drawn and ready. It glinted brightly in the moonlight as he brandished it. Running out of the house with his sword already unsheathed was Gavin, and he was making for them with an enraged snarl.  
  
"Don't ye know when ye've 'ad enough?" Fergus sneered at Aiden. "I should've sliced yer throat when I 'ad the chance," he said with a nasty grin. "I won't be turnin' away a second opportunity, mind ye."  
  
With that, the ruffian lunged forward, making a swipe at Aiden with the dagger. As he danced back out of Fergus' reach, Aiden unsheathed the old sword and held it in a fairly decent imitation of a defensive position.  
  
"I've had enough, all right!" Aiden's words were at least as sharp as the blade he held. "Enough of seeing that innocent lad harmed. You will release him to us immediately!"  
  
As Fergus laughed in derision, Bilbo turned to face the oncoming threat of the other man. It was hardly a fair fight, a man against an aging hobbit, but Bilbo was surprisingly quick for his age, and ducked Gavin's first swing of the blade.  
  
"Outta the way, old fool! I'll have your head mounted on my wall for your interference!" Gavin was glaring down at Bilbo and swung again, rather clumsily, in Bilbo's opinion. Perhaps the man had been drinking or was accustomed to fighting someone his own size.  
  
"I would dearly love to see you try, you filthy wretch," Bilbo shot back, ducking and weaving nimbly. The dagger flashed in his hand. "Give me the boy, now. He is not yours to hold."  
  
"I'll give you a taste of steel, you doddering old rodent," Gavin growled. He swung the blade again as the two circled each other warily.  
  
Aiden had managed to evade Fergus so far, but the knave was quick. Fergus swung a fist and caught the merchant in the chin with a glancing blow. In the split second that Aiden's eyes were off him, the ruffian's knife flashed in his other hand.  
  
Aiden saw it just in time out of the corner of his eye, and dodged aside. The knife nearly missed him, merely clipping his upper arm. He hissed in pain as the sharp blade sliced through fabric and skin, and blood began to trickle from the wound.  
  
"Keep it up, fancy man," Fergus taunted him. "I'm only playin' wi' ye right now, but I could decide to get serious." Fergus swung the knife again, and it glanced off the old sword as Aiden parried the blow. In an instant, Fergus suited action to words, using his free hand to grab Aiden's wrist and twist it hard.  
  
Aiden grunted and the sword fell from his hand as Fergus' fingers pressed down hard into his wrist. Fergus kicked the fallen sword away, and the combat became hand - to - hand as Aiden was disarmed. Both grappled with each other for possession of the dagger, Fergus knocking Aiden to the ground and pouncing on him, driving the point of the dagger closer and closer to the man's throat as Aiden resisted.  
  
His wounded arm had less strength than he had hoped. He punched Fergus in the face, the blow sending a shock wave of pain coursing through the injured limb. Fergus seemed barely to notice, although the impact did cause him to drop the dagger momentarily. He retaliated with vicious blow that made Aiden's vision blur momentarily. Grasping the dagger again, Fergus bore down on his opponent in fury, and Aiden barely managed to keep his assailant's blade from reaching its mark.  
  
Bilbo and Gavin were still trading insults and advances, but neither one seemed able to strike the other with his blade. Gavin's sword gave him the superior reach, but Bilbo always managed to duck, sidestep or parry. The dagger the hobbit held was too short to get him past the menacing sword that always came back to its position between them. They squared off, Bilbo standing between Gavin and the doors of the cellar.  
  
Gavin swung the sword viciously, and Bilbo ducked the blade. The man kicked outward and his boot caught Bilbo in the leg, dropping the hobbit to the ground. Gavin was about to swing again when something made him stop and look up.  
  
As Aiden struggled to keep the sharp point of the dagger from piercing his throat, steel flashed in the moonlight and the tip of a sword slipped neatly between the two combatants, resting lightly against Fergus' neck.  
  
"Give it up, Fergus. You may not have been outmatched before, but you certainly are now." Aiden looked up in shock at the smiling face of Dolan who was standing over them. "What are you looking at?" the dark - haired man asked, not really expecting Aiden to answer him.  
  
Fergus backed away at the point of Dolan's blade, a look of astonishment and hatred flooding his features. "I knew ye'd turn," he spat. "Disloyal bast - "  
  
The rest of the sentence was drowned out by Gavin's bellow of rage. Frenzied in his anger, the man kicked Bilbo solidly, causing the aged hobbit to cry out and roll to the side. In the very next instant, the man dashed past the fallen hobbit and reached the cellar doors. He bolted down the stairs two at a time.  
  
Roused by the commotion, Frodo looked up as Gavin grabbed him by the back of his collar. Frodo screamed into the gag in protest and agony as he was dragged upward. Gavin slashed the bonds at his ankles and hauled him up the stairs roughly, snarling like a ferocious beast.  
  
When they emerged into the moonlight, Frodo's eyes widened in disbelief. Bilbo was there, and Aiden! His friend was not dead as he feared, and Bilbo had come for him! Hope surged through him despite the pain and fear he felt. He caught sight of Dolan and confusion washed over him. What was he doing there? Was he there to help Fergus and Gavin? No, that couldn't be it. Dolan was pointing the tip of his sword in Fergus' face, not Aiden's. Before Frodo could adequately assimilate the strange turn of events, he was shaken back to the moment roughly by Gavin.  
  
"Here's your precious little rat, fellas," the ruffian rumbled as he pushed Frodo forward to stand before him. "Give up, or he's dead." He held the sharp edge of the dagger against Frodo's pale throat.  
  
Bilbo had regained his feet and stared in shock as the man gripped Frodo and held him by the arm with one hand, keeping the blade of a knife to his throat with the other. Time seemed suspended as the eyes of both hobbits met. Bilbo had never seen such fear and pain in anyone's eyes before.  
  
In horror and panic, he nearly shouted Frodo's name, but thought better of it as his senses steadied themselves. He had to get Frodo away from his captor, and he knew of only one way. His hand brushed the fabric of his weskit, feeling the familiar shape of a hard, round little object in the pocket.  
  
The ring! His magic ring, with which he had slipped unseen past Gollum in the cave, and captured treasure from a dragon's lair. Bilbo stepped backward and away from Gavin, who seemed to focus his attention upon the other men. Perhaps he felt that an old hobbit wasn't much of a threat.  
  
Slipping into the shadows nearby, Bilbo pulled the ring from his pocket and slid it onto his finger when neither Gavin nor Fergus were looking in his direction. Unseen by his enemies and allies alike, the hobbit advanced slowly toward Frodo's captor with his dagger drawn. If Frodo had just seen his favorite relative disappear before his eyes, he gave no sign.  
  
"I'll kill the miserable little imp," Gavin threatened, eyeing the men before him. Aiden had climbed to his feet, while Dolan continued to hold Fergus at bay with his sword. "I'll slice his throat right here, and you can watch him bleed to death."  
  
Everyone stood still, not daring to move. The sharp blade hovered barely an inch from Frodo's neck, and one wrong move could prove disastrous. Gavin had begun to back away toward the house, dragging Frodo with him. Aiden dared a step forward, cautiously following.  
  
"Please, I beg you," he said, holding both hands out before him, palms upward to show he was unarmed. "Harm him no further. Surely you can see, he is but a young lad - "  
  
Gavin tightened his grip on Frodo and pointed the dagger in Aiden's direction. "He's not any of your concern," Gavin spat. "I'm takin' him with me, now. If you try to stop me, I'll finish him off, and you'll be next."  
  
Frodo looked at Aiden with unfocused eyes. If not for Gavin's grip on him, he would have fallen. He couldn't speak with the gag in his mouth, but he tried to let his eyes convey his thoughts. ~No. Go back! Please don't put yourself in danger for me anymore!~  
  
Aiden moved forward another step. "If you touch him with that blade, you shall have to kill me." There was resolve and fury in the young merchant's eyes as he faced his foe. "Failing that, you shall not see another day."  
  
What happened next was a blur of movement and sound. As Gavin backed away another step, he seemed to trip over something, yet nothing was there. The ruffian fell backward with a yell of surprise, releasing Frodo and dropping the dagger. Frodo, weakened by hunger and pain, dropped to the ground and lay still.  
  
Aiden dove toward Frodo, intending to pull him to safety. Gavin was rolling on the ground, attempting to right himself. Suddenly aware that he was losing the battle, he reached out for the only thing he could use to stop his enemies.  
  
Gavin's hand closed around Frodo's ankle as he dragged him back out of Aiden's reach. With his other hand, the ruffian scooped up his fallen dagger and threw it at the other man. Aiden collapsed as the blade struck him, biting deeply into his left shoulder.  
  
Frodo felt hands close around his throat and begin to squeeze. He was defenseless against them, with his own hands still bound. He struggled weakly against the pressure and fought for air. Still gagged, he arched his head back trying to breathe through his nose.  
  
"You won't have him," Gavin shouted as he continued to strangle Frodo. "Your meddling has cost him his life!" Frodo was in serious distress, unable to draw even the slightest breath.  
  
"NO!" Aiden cried in desperation, crawling forward using his good arm for balance. The look of sheer terror in Frodo's wide eyes froze his soul.  
  
Dolan had been watching the whole scene out of the corner of his eye as he held Fergus at bay. He drew back his fist and slammed it into Fergus' temple, knocking him down. Satisfied that Fergus wasn't about to get up, he turned and took several steps toward Gavin and Frodo. He need not have bothered.  
  
Aiden and Dolan gaped in open astonishment as Gavin suddenly released his hold on Frodo and reeled backward, blood streaming from his nose. Some unseen force seemed to assault the big man, raining blow after blow upon him.  
  
Bilbo removed the ring from his finger and gasps of disbelief sounded around him. He held the blade of the dagger against Gavin's throat as the man looked at him in stunned silence. Leaning close to Gavin's bloodied face, Bilbo smiled grimly. "Boo." He said.  
  
Dropping his sword beside Aiden, Dolan rushed forward to Bilbo's aid. "I don't know how you did that, old fellow, and I'm not sure I want to," he remarked as he yanked the gag off and severed Frodo's bonds with the hobbit's dagger. Bilbo turned his attention solely to Frodo, gathering the limp form of the young hobbit into his arms while Dolan used the discarded rope to bind Gavin's hands. Gavin was in no condition to protest, having gotten the worst of Bilbo's accurate fists in his face.  
  
Aiden had managed to right himself and stood unsteadily, holding the sword over Fergus with his good hand as Dolan shoved Gavin down the stairs of the cellar. Fergus was next, his hands bound with his own bootlaces. As Dolan secured the cellar doors with the crossbeam, Aiden joined Bilbo as the elderly hobbit pressed his ear to Frodo's chest.  
  
"He's breathing!" Tears of relief flooded the eyes of man and hobbit alike. "Thank the Valar, he's alive!"  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	20. Family and Friends

Author's note - Still pondering the point of the position of Buckland relative to the Brandywine. I found a more detailed Shire map (that takes a while online), and have discovered that GamgeeFest is quite right! Ladies and gentlemen, my deepest apologies. I have moved Buckland! To be accurate, you have to cross the river to get to Buckland from Hobbiton. Once in Buckland you needn't cross it if you're continuing on to Bree. You are already on the Bree side by that time. The movie is unclear on this point, not stating just where in the Shire Frodo and company are when they take the Ferry across the river, hence my confusion regarding the geography.  
  
Aelfgifu - The Ring, whether it wants to or not, could be in a position to help the good guys here.  
  
Trust No One - Things may be taking a turn for the better. Only time will tell!  
  
Ilmare - Gavin deserves a whacking, doesn't he? The angsty roller coaster will begin to slow down a little in the future as we get Frodo into the care of his friends and family.  
  
Endymion - Have a great vacation, and the rest of this story will be waiting when you get back!  
  
Shirebound - That was a tense situation for sure! We all have a chance to breathe easier now, especially Frodo!  
  
Gayalondiel - Dolan may just have a touch of decency in him somewhere. But will he let it work its way up to the surface so we can be sure?  
  
Bookworm2000 - Bilbo pulled out a little of that 'Mad Baggins' humor when he said "Boo!" to Gavin. Trust Bilbo to do something odd like that to break the tension. Onward to Frodo's recovery and a very stunned Merry!  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Yes, Frodo will be cared for with the utmost kindness, I promise you. He certainly deserves it!  
  
Aratlithiel - My biggest challenge for the last chapter was to make sure the action didn't get muddled. It was a bit tough to figure out how to keep everybody in it and pull it all together, but I'm glad it worked! I couldn't resist letting Bilbo get a little cheeky during the process. You know how he is!  
  
Midgette - Yes! Frodo lives! Love it - LOL!  
  
Fool of a Took - Things are looking up for Frodo now. I wouldn't mind giving those ruffians a kick or two myself. This time the Ring helped do something good for a change. Too bad it has to be an instrument of evil! I know a lot of people who could use a magic ring from time to time. Let's go give our future Ringbearer a big hug, shall we?  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 20 - Family and Friends  
  
~*~Bree~*~  
  
How strange it is to realize the little things that are taken for granted like breathing, Frodo thought dreamily. The unconscious act of filling one's lungs with air moment by moment, the involuntary rising and falling of one's chest - a violent fit of coughing brought him back to himself, back to the cold, dewy grass on which he lay. He felt a hand gently brushing his hair back from his eyes.  
  
"Frodo! Frodo, lad, can you hear me?" Bilbo was saying, his voice urgent and anxious.  
  
"Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo's voice rasped in his throat. He tried to sit up but abandoned the effort as a stab of pain flared across his back. "Oh!" he gasped. "It - it hurts."  
  
Bilbo frowned. "What hurts lad? Tell me." Now that Frodo's very survival was no longer an issue, there was time to discover his true condition.  
  
"My back," Frodo said slowly. He allowed Bilbo to help him to a sitting position. Bilbo looked at Frodo's back and was aghast at the blood on his torn shirt. "What have they done to you, lad?" There were tears in his eyes and voice.  
  
"I - I ran away," Frodo said, his voice beginning to shake. "They punished me." Frodo buried his head in Bilbo's arms and cried tears born both of pain and relief. Bilbo clutched him tightly, comforting him. A muffled cry from a short distance away startled him and he looked up.  
  
Dolan was attempting to help Aiden to sit upright. He looked at the hilt of the dagger, then gazed directly into Aiden's eyes as he spoke. "This is going to hurt." Aiden nodded and braced himself. Dolan grasped the dagger with both hands and pulled it from Aiden's shoulder, eliciting a muffled curse. "It's a clean wound, but deep," Dolan said, applying pressure. "Can you make it back to the inn?"  
  
Aiden nodded, and Dolan then moved to where Bilbo and Frodo were sitting together. Frodo opened his eyes and looked up to see the man approaching, and involuntarily recoiled further into Bilbo's embrace.  
  
"Why are you here?" Frodo asked, his voice tight with pain and trepidation. "What do you want?"  
  
"I want you and your companions out of this cold, wet place and back at the inn," Dolan answered him. "It will be too far for you to walk." He moved as if to lift Frodo from the ground.  
  
Frodo clung to Bilbo and resisted. "No! Don't touch me!" He looked at Dolan and his brows knit together in a frown. "I don't trust you!"  
  
Bilbo looked from Frodo to Dolan questioningly. "You know each other, I take it," he said, his eyebrows rising.  
  
"He's one of them," Frodo said shakily. "He and the red - haired one brought me to Bree."  
  
Bilbo's eyes narrowed. "Is that so?" He regarded the man warily.  
  
"There is truth in the statement that Fergus and I are responsible for Frodo's being in Bree," Dolan answered. "Fergus and I have since parted ways, and it was Fergus and his newfound friend who attacked Aiden and abducted Frodo, bringing him here."  
  
Aiden spoke from a short distance away. "He is the one who told me I could find you here, Frodo. He defended us as we fought your captors."  
  
Frodo's voice grew stronger as he faced this man who had purchased him from Reginard and Bargo. "So now you expect me to believe you have seen the error of your ways? That you are sorry for carrying me bound from my home for the sake of a few gold coins?"  
  
"I expect you to understand that both you and Aiden are injured." He leaned over, looking Frodo in the eye. "He cannot carry you back to the inn, and you are in no condition to walk there yourself. I doubt your uncle would make an easy time of bearing you either."  
  
Frodo considered both the logic of Dolan's statement and Aiden's words. Dolan had indeed worked against his former compatriot, leading Aiden and Bilbo to the cellar in order to rescue him. He had raised his sword to stop Fergus from killing Aiden. It was indeed true that the walk back to the inn would be extremely difficult if not impossible for Frodo in his present condition. Someone would have to carry him, and Aiden's shoulder would prevent him from doing so. Frodo's tone softened somewhat when he spoke again.  
  
"I understand." He bowed his head wearily and allowed Dolan to wrap his cloak about him and lift him up. He winced and made a small gasp as Dolan's arm came in contact with his back.  
  
"I am sorry, Frodo," Dolan said as he rose to his full height. "I will try not to cause you discomfort, but we have a distance to walk before we reach the inn."  
  
Bilbo had risen and walked over to stand beside Aiden. The man rose to his feet unsteadily, a little woozy from loss of blood. Steeling themselves, they began the long walk back to the inn.  
  
~*~The Prancing Pony~*~  
  
Merry was startled by the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside. He bolted out of his chair and looked at Saradoc, who was already on his feet. The door burst open and a dark - haired man he had never seen before entered with Frodo in his arms. Aiden followed with a hand clasped to his shoulder, which was bleeding, soaking his shirt with crimson. Bilbo was the last to enter, mostly unharmed, but for the bruises he would have from the ruffian kicking him.  
  
"Frodo!" Merry shouted, moving forward only to be intercepted by his father.  
  
"Give them room, lad," he cautioned gently. It appeared that their preparations were not without purpose. Frodo was very pale and looked as if he were in pain, and Aiden was obviously injured.  
  
Dolan crossed the room and placed Frodo on the bed carefully, and Bilbo, Merry and Saradoc came immediately to the bedside. The man let the young hobbit's family take over seeing to his injuries, and went to look at the wound in Aiden's shoulder.  
  
Saradoc supported Frodo as he sat wearily with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Bilbo began carefully removing the tattered remains of Frodo's shirt. The marks on his back were very recent, he realized. They looked to be the marks of a whip or strap of some kind, and had plainly been applied with great force.  
  
"Ssshhh, Frodo, lad," he soothed as Frodo groaned. "Sara, could you make some of that tea ready?" Saradoc nodded wordlessly, and gestured to Merry to follow him to the hearth where the kettle was warming.  
  
Bilbo was grateful for the relative privacy. His attention was fully concentrated on Frodo and his injuries. It had been too dark outside for him to see the true extent of the damage, but here, in the warm, brightly lit room at the inn, he could see all too well the evidence of the treatment Frodo had received.  
  
In addition to the raised, bleeding welts on his back, a dark bruise was forming over Frodo's ribs on one side, the mark of Gavin's boot and displeasure. Bruises were likewise beginning to show on the lad's pale face, an especially prominent one shadowing his left cheekbone. Was it not enough for those men to whip him? A tear slid down the old hobbit's face at the thought of those large brutes striking the dear boy.  
  
"Lie down, Frodo, on your stomach," Bilbo instructed, willing his voice to steadiness. "That's it, easy now." As Bilbo eased him down onto the pillows, Merry returned with a steaming cup in his hands and placed it on the washbasin by the bed.  
  
"Thank you, Merry." Merry nodded and seated himself quietly in a chair nearby, staying back out of the way of Bilbo's ministrations. Bilbo took one of the clean cloths from the washstand and dipped it into the herb - laden water in the basin. He wrung it out and gently began to bathe the marks on Frodo's back.  
  
Frodo winced, and Merry reached out for his hand. "Merry - " Frodo breathed, opening his eyes. "I'm so glad you're here! But however did you manage - "  
  
"I heard him, Frodo," Merry blurted, anger rising in his voice. "I heard Bargo talking about what they did to you. I'm so glad you're back." His voice wavered and he squeezed Frodo's hand.  
  
Lulled by the scent of the herbs and the warmth of the water, Frodo closed his eyes and squeezed Merry's hand in return. "I'm glad to see you too, Mer," he replied quietly. "More than you'll ever know."  
  
"Merry, since you're right here, will you take another cloth and soothe those marks on Frodo's wrists?" Bilbo asked. Merry nodded and immediately went to work, dabbing at the angry red abrasions the ropes had left behind. When he was satisfied that the injuries had been cleaned properly, he bandaged them with strips of cloth.  
  
"Frodo, can you sit up and have some tea? It has some herbs in it that will help you sleep," Bilbo said quietly, lightly stroking Frodo's hair. The tween nodded and allowed Bilbo and Merry to assist him as he sat up again, just long enough to drink the tea Merry had brought him.  
  
"Stars, Bilbo!" Saradoc rejoined them and got his first clear look at Frodo's back. He stared in disbelief at the wounds marring the pale skin of Frodo's back. "How did this happen?"  
  
"This is what has come of the mischief those two lads at the Hall perpetrated," Bilbo said grimly. "As a result of their treachery, Frodo wound up a captive. He was beaten for attempting to escape."  
  
Saradoc paled. "The men who did this - what will be done about them?" He would deal with Bargo and Reginard when they got back to the Hall, but what about Frodo's abusive captors?  
  
"I shall see to them," Dolan said from across the room. All eyes were fixed upon him now, as he continued with a sigh. "I had thought to pass the winter in Bree, but it seems fate has other plans," he said ruefully. "I will alert the constable to Fergus and Gavin's presence and their actions. Fergus will undoubtedly implicate me at the very first opportunity, so I will be taking my leave of Bree immediately."  
  
Aiden moved his newly - bandaged shoulder carefully, reaching into his coat and pulling out a pouch containing ten gold coins. "I believe this is yours," he said, passing it to Dolan. "Payment for services rendered."  
  
"Keep it, friend," Dolan replied, handing the money back to Aiden. "You have paid a great enough cost as it is."  
  
A half - smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Aiden took the pouch back. "What's this? Has your conscience awakened and reminded you of your principles, perhaps?"  
  
"You tell the story your way, and I will surely tell it in mine," Dolan replied, the swagger returning to his manner. "If it pleases you to think so, then be my guest."  
  
"Why did you help us?" Aiden said curiously. He certainly hadn't expected to see Dolan show up and point his sword at his former associate as he had.  
  
"I saw you leaving the inn, and I knew you'd never come out of this alive if I didn't lend a hand," he answered, one eyebrow rising slightly. "I guessed you weren't much of a swordsman, and I didn't know you had a disappearing halfling to assist you." Both men looked at Bilbo uncertainly, who was so intent on Frodo that he failed to notice.  
  
"I was unaware of that myself, " Aiden replied, shaking his head. He must ask the old hobbit to explain that extraordinary trick he'd pulled.  
  
"I shall be on my way now," Dolan announced, shouldering his pack and fastening the clasp of his cloak. He had done his duty as he saw it, and now must set about dispatching the authorities to take care of Gavin and Fergus.  
  
As he stepped to the door and placed his hand on it, he heard a voice behind him speak a single word quietly. "Wait."  
  
He turned toward the source of the voice and saw Frodo looking at him intently from the corner. Dolan turned from the door and made his way to the bedside, kneeling to better hear the voice of the young hobbit.  
  
"Yes, Frodo?" Dolan waited to hear what the little one had to say to him.  
  
"Thank you. I am sorry I doubted you." Frodo closed his eyes as he spoke. The medicines in the herb tea were starting to work on him.  
  
If Dolan had doubted himself before that moment, he knew then that he had done the right thing. Still, he didn't quite feel comfortable in dropping his rakish façade completely.  
  
"Yes, well, let's not let too much word of this get around, shall we?" He winked conspiratorially. "My reputation, you know."  
  
Frodo managed a sleepy smile, and Merry looked at Dolan curiously. Frodo would certainly tell him the entire tale when he felt up to it.  
  
"Take care of him," Dolan said to Merry, and strode from the room before anything else could delay or discomfit him.  
  
Merry remained by Frodo's side as he slept. Aiden, also dosed with the medicinal tea, slept quietly on one of the other beds nearby. How odd the tall man looked, stretched out on his back on the hobbit - sized bed with his feet hanging well off the end!  
  
Bilbo and Saradoc sat together by the fire, discussing the issue of Frodo's continued stay at Brandy Hall. "Provided that Frodo agrees to the arrangement, will you allow me to take him to Bag End?" Bilbo asked pointedly. "Recent events notwithstanding, I believe the lad would be happier there."  
  
"Indeed, I must admit you may be correct, Bilbo." Saradoc rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I would be willing to allow it on the condition that Frodo has free choice of where he remains. If he is not happy at the end of six months, he should be given the option to return to Brandy Hall."  
  
Bilbo considered. He wanted only what was best for the lad, certainly. "I cannot see why he would be unhappy at Bag End, Saradoc, but I will agree to those terms. Also, I have another matter to add to our discussion, namely my choice of an heir."  
  
Saradoc looked at Bilbo sharply. This subject had been a focus of much debate and conjecture, not only at Brandy Hall, but certainly among Bilbo's family in the Hobbiton area. "Are you speaking of Frodo?"  
  
"I am." Bilbo said firmly. "Of all my family, Frodo is the only one I feel any kind of connection with. He has such a spirit about him, Sara." Bilbo lit his pipe and leaned back in his chair, watching the flames dance in the fireplace. "The rest of my family members I have considered lack his curious nature, his patience and pure kindness. They are selfish and grasping, and quite honestly, I believe they are more irritated by every year that I remain among them!"  
  
Saradoc laughed at the statement, a clear picture of Otho and Lobelia Sackville - Baggins and their smirking tweenage son Lotho appearing in his mind. "Yes, Bilbo, in some cases that may be so." He considered for a moment. "What an unpleasant surprise your choice will be for them, I imagine. It could put Frodo in an uncomfortable position."  
  
Bilbo had considered the possibility. "I realize that there will be some consternation and perhaps some unpleasantness directed toward the lad as a result. I will shield him from it as best I can, but otherwise I feel that Frodo has the ability to deal with the situation." Indeed, after his adventure in Bree, Bilbo expected to see a stronger, more assertive young lad emerging. "He's a brave boy, Saradoc. Let the others say what they will of him, but I can see it."  
  
"Yes, Bilbo, I believe he is. He has proven himself so in recent days." Saradoc thought of all Frodo had been through - being abducted and taken to an unfamiliar place, enduring captivity and violence. Thank the Valar for the one friend the lad had made during the adventure, the kindly merchant who now lay injured in their care.  
  
"Remarkable, what that fellow did in Frodo's favor," Saradoc remarked, gesturing toward the bed where Aiden slept. "Had he not stepped in, things would certainly have been worse."  
  
"How well I know, Sara." Bilbo fidgeted with his pipe. "We are much in his debt, although I doubt he would recognize the fact." Aiden seemed to be someone who acted out of the kindness of his heart, without thought to what he stood to lose or gain in the process. It would be difficult for Frodo to say farewell to his new friend.  
  
And speaking of farewells, it would undoubtedly be hard on Merry to see Frodo leave Brandy Hall. When Bilbo voiced his thoughts regarding the subject, Saradoc responded, "Merry will feel Frodo's absence quite keenly, but he understands. We have discussed the matter."  
  
"I would be pleased if Merry would come visit us at Bag End, and I would definitely be in favor of Frodo's visiting the Hall when time allows," Bilbo said with a smile. Frodo would undoubtedly make more friends in Hobbiton, and while he would miss Merry, he would not lack for companionship.  
  
It was settled, then. If Frodo agreed to the plan, the four hobbits would journey back to Brandy Hall together, and Frodo would join Bilbo as he continued home to Hobbiton. They passed the night uneventfully, resting as well as they were able in a room with too few beds.  
  
Frodo slept soundly, exhaustion and the effects of the medicines allowing him the deep, strength - renewing rest he had known so little of during the past fortnight. He woke only once during the night, to see Merry sleeping in a chair nearby. He smiled and closed his eyes again, knowing he was safe in the presence of family and friends, and feeling that this time, nothing would come to harm him.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	21. Comfort

FantasyFan - I posted chapter 20 before I got your review for 19. When Bilbo used the Ring there was a lot going on. Dolan was rather shocked, and Aiden was pretty surprised as well. Frodo isn't ready to travel just yet, so we're going to spend a little more time showing him some love.  
  
Aelfgifu - Starting to feel a little kinder toward Dolan? There just might be a streak of something good in him somewhere! This story isn't quite over. Chapter 27 will be the last one.  
  
Distortion - Here's another happy chapter for you! I don't know about the demise of Reginard and Bargo, but their downfall is guaranteed.  
  
Shirebound - Dolan had to swagger a bit to save face, didn't he? Mr. Tough Ruffian does have a conscience after all. Bilbo sees in Frodo what others cannot, and he sees the truth about the Sackville - Bagginses. They are irritated by Bilbo's stubborn lingering among them!  
  
Fool of a Took - Dolan is still a rogue as always, but he's taken a few steps in the right direction. I think we could all do with a few hobbits hanging around the house. A good dose of cute is what we need every day!  
  
Heartofahobbit - Dolan has a few surprises in him, doesn't he? There's hope for him yet! Saradoc does indeed realize the impact of these events on Merry, and you've never seen a father who was more proud of his son. I'll keep writing, in fact I can't stop. A sequel is in the works!  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Dolan is still a rascal, but he's taken some steps toward redemption here. Lots more comfort coming up, as the title of this chapter indicates.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - You've drawn pics? Oh yes, I'd like to see them! We've got some warm, fluffy comfort for our little hobbit coming up. My next story will be a sequel to this one, featuring some nasty Sackville - Bagginses!  
  
Gayalondiel - We're getting cute and fluffy here, for certain. I do have plans for Aiden, as this chapter will begin to reveal.  
  
Bookworm2000 - Dolan has attempted to redeem himself, so I'll give him another chance. Mad Baggins humor was required in that last chapter, definitely. Saradoc will definitely have something to say to Bargo and Reginard when he gets back to Buckland.  
  
Midgette - Frodo is going home just as soon as he feels up to traveling. We get to give him love and comfort until then.  
  
Curious Cat - Saradoc is frustrating, isn't he? He had to see the physical evidence of Frodo's experience before it hit him that Reginard and Bargo really did pull such an awful stunt. Will he apologize to Frodo? Future chapters answer that one.  
  
GamgeeFest - Dolan's conscience has finally caught up with him, and Bilbo has still got the moves! Frodo will need a few days before he's up to heading home. It will be hard to say goodbye to his new friend.  
  
Aratlithiel - Chapter 20 was your favorite so far? It does seem that everyone either gets what they need or what they deserve.  
  
And now, some story plugging! You'll like 'em if you read 'em!  
  
"Treasures" by BellaMonte "Rites of Passage" by Willow - Wode "In Between" by Krista "Ring Around the Merry" by Aelfgifu "Some Nameless Place" by Budgielover "Serenade" by Kete  
  
These are just a few of the ones I'm following now, and there are many more angst - laden gems out there begging us to read them!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 21 - Comfort  
  
~*~The Prancing Pony, morning~*~  
  
A knock on the door roused Bilbo from where he was snoozing in a chair before the fire. "Yes, yes, I'm coming," he groused, ambling to the door unsteadily as the increased blood flow to his feet caused a pins and needles sensation to prickle them.  
  
He opened the door cautiously, peering out and up into the face of a young woman with a small, covered basket in her hands. "Master Baggins?" she said uncertainly.  
  
"Yes, I am he," Bilbo replied, straightening his weskit and opening the door wider.  
  
"How can I help you, miss?"  
  
"My name is Mira," she answered. "I'm a healer. I was sent to you by a tall, dark - haired fellow who summoned me early this morning." She peered past Bilbo into the room. "I was told there are injured here, one of my race and one of yours?"  
  
"Hmmm, yes. Word travels quickly in Bree," Bilbo said, as he waved her inside. She spied Frodo first, and walked briskly to the bedside, setting the basket on the floor and removing her cloak.  
  
"Sleeping herbs?" She asked, noting Frodo's somnolent state. Bilbo nodded. "That's good. Rest is always one of the greatest needs of the injured or ill." Frodo began to stir at that point, mumbling and unconsciously rolling over. That was all it took to make his eyes open. He groaned at the sharp twinge of pain in his back, and rolled onto his stomach again.  
  
"I am sorry to have awakened you, young one," Mira said gently, bending down to examine Frodo's back more closely. "Does it hurt badly?"  
  
"It didn't until I rolled over," Frodo muttered. His mind was muzzy from the herbs that had been mixed into his tea.  
  
"Just relax, and we'll have you back to sleep in a few moments," Mira instructed, taking his hand and unwrapping the bandage from his wrist. She removed a small jar of a fragrant salve from her basket and dabbed it gently on the chafed skin.  
  
Bilbo couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Frodo a little. "One would think you'd be more alert, lad, what with a pretty girl holding your hand like that," he chuckled. Frodo mumbled something unintelligible in response, and Merry snickered from the hearth, where he was watching the proceedings with interest.  
  
Mira raised an eyebrow at Bilbo's comment, and favored him with a tolerant smile. She handed him the little jar of salve. "Why don't you put a little of this on his back, Master Baggins? It will help those marks heal faster, and will reduce the possibility of scarring."  
  
Bilbo did as he was asked, and within moments, Frodo's wrists were re - bandaged and his back was no longer burning and aching, but tingling rather pleasantly. He sighed and his eyes drooped shut again.  
  
"Very well, where is my other patient?" Mira looked around the room and caught sight of Aiden, his long legs still hanging over the end of the bed. She approached quietly, and her brows knit with concern at the amount of blood that had seeped through the makeshift bandage on his shoulder.  
  
"That looks bad," she said in a low voice, almost to herself. She began to pull the cloth bandage aside to get a better look at the wound beneath, and Aiden's hand batted hers away as he stirred from his herb - induced sleep.  
  
"Now be still," she chided him, as she managed to unfasten one edge of the bandage. As she pulled it back it carefully, Bilbo leaned over and looked from the wound to her face to gauge her expression.  
  
"What do you think?" Bilbo was addressing the healer, but in his medicated state, Aiden replied instead.  
  
"Pretty eyes," he mumbled. "Lovely, really." His words slurred just a little and a rather strange half - smile crossed his face, making him look like one who had imbibed far too much ale in one sitting.  
  
Bilbo was shaking with mirth, and more laughter came from the hearth where Merry and Saradoc were watching the scene with great amusement. Mira's face colored, but she continued to work on removing the rest of the bandage.  
  
"As much as it troubles me to answer such kind words with actions that cause pain, I fear I must do so," she said, and began to clean the dried blood from the edges of the deep wound.  
  
Aiden grimaced in response as the wound stung and throbbed. "Aaahh, my lady, you are ruthless!"  
  
She glanced at Bilbo, and smiled. "The bigger they are, the louder they - " she broke off the comment as a hand closed over her own, stilling its motions.  
  
Aiden willed his mind to clear of the cobwebs left by the sleeping herbs. He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was behaving rather like a - what had Frodo called it? A tween. That was the word. He knew he was wearing a rather foolish expression, but somehow his facial muscles refused to be schooled to anything more dignified.  
  
He was looking up at soft grey eyes in an angular face, framed by thick, dark hair that was slightly mussed from the hood of a cloak, drawn back loosely and fastened with a simple device made of a tooled leather wrap stabbed through with a carved wooden stylus.  
  
The owner of those captivating eyes was looking down at him with a kind yet amused expression, and she moved his hand gently from her own in order to continue cleansing the wound. "Rest easy, good sir. I'll not torment you long," she answered, examining her handiwork.  
  
"How much of that herb did you put in his tea last night, Merry?" Bilbo questioned.  
  
"Twice as much as I gave Frodo," Merry answered, sounding uncertain. Bilbo gave him a sharp look and a raised eyebrow. "Well, he IS twice as big as Frodo," Merry stammered. What did they expect? He wasn't a healer!  
  
"How am I faring?" Aiden asked, his voice beginning to sound a little more like his own.  
  
"You will mend, I'll warrant," Mira replied. "But you mustn't let the muscles in your shoulder go without use. It will cause discomfort, but you must move it as it heals, or you will lose partial use of your arm," she cautioned in a serious tone.  
  
"And how shall I go about it?" he questioned, waiting expectantly for the answer. He was pleasantly surprised when she took his hand and gently began to raise his arm upward, but only until she could see discomfort evident in his features and feel him squeezing her hand reflexively.  
  
"Just a little, at first, but a bit more each day," she instructed, easing the arm back down again. She prepared a fresh bandage and began to apply it with deft, experienced motions. In a few moments, the stab wound was completely bandaged, and Aiden leaned back against the headboard wearily. The medicines may have been wearing off, but he was still recovering from the loss of blood, and he found sitting upright to be somewhat wearying.  
  
"Rest now," the healer said, gently patting Aiden's hand. Unable to resist, he captured her hand in his own once again, and gallantly placed a kiss upon it.  
  
"My gratitude goes with you, dear lady," he said, smiling warmly. She smiled and nodded, then retrieved her cloak and basket and made her way to the door with Bilbo close behind.  
  
As she stepped into the hallway, Bilbo followed, closing the door softly behind him. "Before you go, I must pay you for your services," he said, drawing some coins from the pocket of his breeches.  
  
"That will not be necessary, as I was paid in advance, Master Baggins," she said, declining the offer.  
  
"Well, perhaps you would accept this as advance payment for your next visit?" The old hobbit said with a hopeful expression and a gesture back toward the door. "Surely they should both be seen to again, just to be sure they are healing properly?"  
  
She laughed. These little folk were so charming, it was difficult to refuse them anything. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt, although you did very well on your own last night, it seems." She accepted the coins and smiled. "Very well, Master Baggins. I shall return to check on your invalids this evening. In the meantime, keep them warm and well rested."  
  
"Your word is law, my dear," Bilbo said with a polite bow. Mira disappeared down the corridor, and Bilbo sighed and opened the door with a grin on his face. Dolan had done more good by them than he had probably intended, he thought merrily, especially where that young merchant was concerned. The look on his face had been simply priceless!  
  
Bilbo re - entered the room, pausing to brush imaginary dust from the lapels of his weskit. "How kind of your informant to arrange the services of a healer for our little band of heroes," he quipped, looking pointedly at Aiden. "So, how DO you fare, eh?"  
  
"My shoulder or my heart?" Aiden responded, with a wistful grin, his gaze drifting to the door. Perhaps the herbs in the tea had something to do with his reaction to the lovely vision he had awakened to, but they were certainly not entirely to blame. "I would be injured or ill more often, had I the promise of such fairness to gaze upon."  
  
Merry made a face.  
  
Bilbo looked across the room at Frodo, who had been watching the scene from where he lay. "Well, lad, it seems a heart has been stolen before our very eyes," the aged hobbit observed. "Lovely young lady, don't you think?"  
  
Frodo's eyes were closed again, and he replied rather thickly, "Mmmmm. Too tall." The walls rang with peals of laughter, and for the first time in several days, the only tears that fell were tears of overwhelming mirth.  
  
~*~To Be Continued~*~ 


	22. On the Mend

FantasyFan - I myself could not tell you what they put in that tea to make everyone so wonky, but if the healer says 'sleep', sleep they shall! I like to give bad guys a chance to find their souls too. Some do, some don't.  
  
Aelfgifu - Aiden does deserve to be rewarded for his kindness. And Mira needs a good man, doesn't she?  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Merry is at the age where he might just about start liking girls, but the "mush" thing just makes him go "ewwwww." He'll understand someday not too far into the future!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - We can't let a nice guy like Aiden keep sitting around alone, can we? Glad you liked the 'too tall' line. Lots of people mentioning that. I wanted that chapter to be a little longer too, but it didn't cooperate.  
  
Shirebound - Yes, Aiden has been pierced through the heart and by something more pleasant than a ruffian's blade!  
  
Krista - We still have some more TLC to come. We have to get Frodo well enough to travel home. Glad you're enjoying the portrayals of the characters. That's always a challenge, especially for the ones that aren't mine. Mine can behave any way they want to, and frequently do.  
  
Bookworm2000 - Yes, Frodo has a little of the Mad Baggins sense of humor in him. Aiden had a hard time being suave and cool with a head full of happy tea. In a normal state, he might have been a little tongue tied, but he was, shall we say, in an altered state?  
  
Trust No One - Happy is good, after so much angst! As to whether the angst is over yet, I have to say you can only twist a plot so many times before you make a pretzel, but we still have to go deal with Bargo and Reginard, don't we?  
  
Kay - You're welcome! Even old Bilbo knows a pretty face when he sees one. He's such a good matchmaker, isn't he? Dolan has perhaps made a bit of a turnaround. I don't know if he'll ever be 'respectable', but I doubt he'll be selling halflings again. Good on Bilbo for using the Ring for something good before it starts messing up all of Middle Earth!  
  
TTTurtle - Glad your computer is working again! We need a little rest after that nasty fight, don't we? Returning to the Shire soon!  
  
LotRseer3350 - We're going to let Frodo rest up and get back where he belongs soon. Bargo and Reginard need to be dealt with too.  
  
Iorhael - Has chapter 19 allowed you to see it yet? If not, e-mail me and I'll send it to you. Things are certainly looking up at this point.  
  
Aratlithiel - Aiden does deserve to get the girl, doesn't he? And the only thing cuter than Frodo is sleepy Frodo!  
  
Fool of a Took - About time Aiden had a distraction from the sorrows in his life, eh? I'll be Aiden is glad of Frodo's assertion that Mira is 'too tall.' Less competition!  
  
QTPie - 2488 - Here you are, sailing in with some great long reviews! I think all of us need a little comfort after the ride we've been on. As for Aiden, he might well be off the list of Bree's eligible bachelors if he keeps this up! Planning a sequel, yes. And writing it as we speak! Now, on to more of that comfort you like so well.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 22 - On the Mend  
  
~*~The Prancing Pony~*~  
  
Bilbo poured tea into five cups on the small table and replaced the kettle over the flames of the hearth. He didn't usually take tea after supper, but it seemed a good way to soothe the tiredness and anxiousness away. It had been a long day with little to do but talk and rest, and watch over the two injured members of the party who had mostly slept the day away.  
  
Frodo was able to sit upright now, recovering his strength and energy as rapidly as only a tween can do. The salve Mira had brought was helping the marks on his back heal quickly, and he found he could wear a shirt without much discomfort. Having none of his own clothes with him, he'd had to borrow one of Bilbo's, and it hung rather loosely on his spare frame.  
  
Aiden was sitting up on one of the beds and Frodo and Merry had pulled chairs over to the bedside. The three sat talking animatedly and sipping their tea. Merry was especially curious about Frodo's newfound friend. He had seen some of the Big Folk from a distance, but he'd never met any of them before.  
  
"So you probably know more about the Shire than a lot of your people," Merry observed. "Do you visit often?"  
  
Aiden considered. "When business is brisk, I'll visit the Southfarthing once every two months or so," he answered. "I've not had time to travel much within your borders aside from making trips to purchase pipeweed from the planters."  
  
Frodo nodded. "Brandy Hall is a little out of your way, then, and Hobbiton, where Uncle Bilbo lives is farther still."  
  
Aiden shifted, moving his shoulder slightly and wincing. Frodo gave him a sharp look. "Are you moving it like the healer said?" Frodo asked, doing his best to sound stern.  
  
The mention of the lovely young lady who had cleaned and bandaged the wound earlier in the day made Aiden smile, even as he raised his arm and a twinge of pain warned him to move slowly. "Yes, Frodo. I would not dare disobey her, for behind that fair countenance may lie the heart of something quite formidable."  
  
"You like her, don't you?" Merry said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "I saw that silly grin on your face," he continued with a bit of a smirk.  
  
"Meriadoc," Saradoc said sharply in reprimand, "a little courtesy, if you please. Master Aiden is not one of the lads at the Hall, and he is due more respect."  
  
Aiden laughed. "Not to worry, Saradoc. Your son has not offended me in the least." In fact, he found Merry both charming and amusing. To Merry, he added, "You are young yet, Merry, but one day you will understand. I regret that I shall not be nearby to see the same silly grin make itself at home on your face one day as some sweet lass catches your eye."  
  
Saradoc laughed in approval. That day might not be too far off, he realized. It seemed almost as if Merry were an inch taller already than he had been a week ago.  
  
"Hmmm, right," Merry said noncommittally. He supposed it was true, but he wasn't about to start running after every lass in the Hall to test the theory. He sobered somewhat and reached out a small hand to grasp Aiden's larger one. "I haven't had a chance to say it yet, but thank you for helping Frodo." Sudden tears rose in Merry's eyes as he though of how close he had come to losing the cousin who meant so much to him.  
  
Aiden squeezed Merry's hand gently. "I did so gladly, Merry, for I have made a friend in the process." He gestured toward Frodo. "Your cousin is remarkable in his resiliency, his patience, and his concern for others. He is also quite fortunate in that he has you to watch over him."  
  
That last statement was of little comfort to Merry. Watch over him? How was Merry to do that when Frodo was leaving to live in Hobbiton? But it wasn't entirely decided, was it? He knew that Bilbo and Saradoc had agreed to the arrangement, but had Frodo spoken his assent yet? Perhaps there was still a chance that Frodo would remain in Buckland. If so, Merry vowed that he would indeed watch over his favorite cousin to the best of his ability.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Merry said simply, accepting Aiden's compliment. Frodo dropped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a light squeeze. Merry offered silent thanks again for his cousin's safety as the three continued chatting about Bree and the Shire, Merry thoroughly amusing Aiden with legends of Buckland and the surrounding areas.  
  
The sound of someone lightly tapping on the door interrupted the conversation. Bilbo gave Aiden a sly look and shooed Frodo and Merry from the bedside while Saradoc opened the door and greeted Mira. As before, she had with her the basket containing various salves and bandages, and neatly wrapped packets of herbs for brewing into remedies for pain, fever and other maladies.  
  
She nodded to Aiden and smiled, once again moving to tend to Frodo first. "It's good to see you more alert, young one," she said quietly. "May I ask your name?"  
  
"Frodo," he replied rather shyly. He had been under the influence of a heavy dose of sleeping herbs the last time she had come, and so had been spared much conversation. She wasn't going to let him off so easily this time, it seemed.  
  
"You are looking much better than you did this morning, Frodo," Mira said warmly. "May I look at your back?"  
  
Frodo lay down on his stomach again and pulled the oversized shirt up over his shoulders to expose the whip welts. Much of the redness had gone out of the abused skin, and the deeper cuts had begun to scab over. "This will heal quite nicely, I believe," Mira remarked, rubbing more of the tingly - feeling salve lightly over the marks. "Does it hurt you much?"  
  
"No, not as much anymore," Frodo answered, his voice muffled by the pillow. He sat up again when she was finished, letting the shirt fall lightly over his back again. She again treated the marks on his wrists and briefly examined the bruises on his face.  
  
"You've quite a black eye, young Frodo." She smiled at him. "A good thing it will fade a great deal before you get home, or you might be accused of brawling in the pubs." The jest made Frodo relax and he laughed.  
  
"I'm a little young yet for that, Miss Mira," Frodo replied while Bilbo chuckled. Hopefully Frodo would refrain from such activities whether he was of the appropriate age for them or not, he mused. Still, lads would be lads!  
  
Now that Mira had finished with Frodo, Bilbo cleared his throat and addressed his fellow hobbits. "What a fine, crisp evening it is!" He looked pointedly at Frodo and Merry, and glanced quickly at Saradoc, who grinned. "I believe I should like to take the air for a few moments. Saradoc?"  
  
"Hmmm, yes. That sounds like a splendid idea, Bilbo." He waved to Frodo and Merry. "Come along, lads."  
  
"But I really don't - " Merry began to protest, but his father's look stopped him.  
  
"Come along, Meriadoc," the Master of Buckland said with a raised eyebrow and a tone that brooked no argument.  
  
"Let's go, Mer," Frodo whispered, grinning at his cousin. Merry might be missing the point, but he wasn't.  
  
The four hobbits donned their cloaks and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind them.  
  
"I'll have a look at that shoulder now, if you please," the healer said as she approached Aiden. "Are you making sure to move your arm from time to time as we discussed?"  
  
Aiden nodded, forcing himself not to grin like a fool again. "Indeed I am, although you were correct about the action causing discomfort."  
  
"Sometimes one must merely endure," Mira said lightly, as she removed the dressing from Aiden's shoulder. "Well, sir, that looks far better already," she remarked. "I wondered about suturing it, but I think it will heal without."  
  
"Please, call me Aiden," he said as he watched her remove another small jar of something from the basket.  
  
"Very well, Aiden," she replied. "And I am Mira, Journeywoman of the Healercraft."  
  
Aiden looked at her rather sharply. "So you are not yet a Master Healer, then?" He asked curiously.  
  
"No, I have not attained my Mastery yet," she answered, smiling. "But fear not, I promise you are in capable hands."  
  
"I doubt it not," Aiden replied casually, stealing a glance at her face as he spoke. "I must ask your pardon for my behavior this morning," he said earnestly. "I was not entirely myself, and I apologize if I said anything - - unseemly."  
  
She blushed at the comment, but answered, "You mustn't worry with regard to your actions," she told him. "You were not impolite, just perhaps somewhat - "  
  
"Honest?" He supplied the word with a sheepish grin. He looked at her steadily as he spoke. "I meant every word, Mira."  
  
She looked back at him, trying to keep her expression neutral. "You are very kind, Aiden," she replied. He was rather bold, this handsome young rogue, she thought. "How is it you came by this wound?" she asked mildly as she wrapped his shoulder.  
  
Aiden told her briefly about Frodo and the two ruffians. "I've no skill to speak of with a blade, and it seems I know little of when to duck, either," he said ruefully.  
  
"A lack of skill with a sword is not necessarily a bad thing," she replied, "for those who wield such weapons easily usually have reason to do so." She wouldn't mind hearing this man say that his reasons for fighting were few. "Still, I would say you did fairly well in your defense," she observed. If the knife had struck a few inches lower -  
  
"Has your family lived long in Bree?" Aiden asked. He must learn more about the charming healer who tended him. She seemed intelligent and capable, like his lost Morida, yet different at the same time. He listened intently to her reply.  
  
"Yes, I was born here," she told him. "My father is a Master Healer, and my family and I live on the Western edge of the village. Are you a born Breelander?"  
  
"No, I came to Bree from Archet some years ago," he replied. "As is the case with most young fellows, I felt the need to step out on my own and make my way, even if I only went as far as the next town to do so."  
  
Mira laughed at the statement. "Have you any family in Bree?"  
  
"I did once," Aiden replied, a sad note in his voice. "I lost them three years hence."  
  
Mira's expression clouded at the mention of the time. "The Fever." Aiden nodded and she continued. "I remember it well. I was an apprentice at the time and so helped my father prepare for his daily rounds through the village. I did not see the patients as he did, however."  
  
Aiden tried to remember the name and face of the healer who had tended his wife and child in their sickness. He remembered naught but Morinda and Callen, however. Could it be he had already met Mira's father? "Is he at all troubled by your being out and about on your own, tending to men wounded in brawls?"  
  
Mira chuckled. She supposed she expected the question. "Not generally. He knows I have sense, and if he doesn't like the look of any of those who come seeking help, he will tend them himself," she explained.  
  
"Would he like the look of me, I wonder?" Aiden said, his face reddening as he realized he had spoken aloud.  
  
Mira looked at him sharply, her gaze steady and measuring. "I think he would find you an acceptable patient to be commended to my care," she replied, enjoying Aiden's momentary discomfort at his verbal slip.  
  
Well, he'd gotten himself into this, Aiden thought. Nothing else for it but to forge ahead. "That being said, would you mind if I were to call on you now that I am on the mend?" He waited for her answer. A reason to hope, or an arrow through the heart?  
  
Mira regarded him levelly and found herself smiling. There was something about him, a pleasant, comfortable manner that was both mischievous and charming by turns. She relented, handing him a small card with an address and the name Torbold Archer, Master Healer at the top. "You may, if it pleases you. Here is my father's calling card with the address."  
  
"Thank you," he said, trying to hide how pleased he truly was with her answer. The foolish grin was lurking just below the surface and threatening to take over his face at any moment.  
  
"I shall leave you to your rest now, Aiden," Mira said, repacking her basket and reaching for her cloak. "Please remember, to keep moving your arm at regular intervals."  
  
He nodded. "As you command," he answered, making the effort to raise his hand in farewell. It came up slowly, part of the way, and he allowed it to drop again when discomfort turned to pain. He'd raised it higher than he had that morning, so he must be mending indeed.  
  
Mira left the room and walked down the hallway, smiling and waving to the hobbits as she passed them in front of the inn.  
  
"Do you suppose the dear fellow used time to his advantage, Bilbo?" Saradoc asked, watching the healer wend her way through the slowly thinning crowds in the street.  
  
"Let us hope so, Sara," Bilbo said with a puff on his pipe. "He's not an addle - brained tween, after all."  
  
"Your pardon, Uncle?" Frodo said, giving Bilbo a look. Frodo was a tween himself, and he didn't consider himself to be at all addle - brained.  
  
"You know what I meant, lad." Bilbo responded, and he and Frodo shared a conspiratorial grin as the fallen leaves swirled around their feet in the brisk breeze of the evening.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	23. An Invitation

Gayalondiel - Glad you like the way the hobbits are portrayed. I love writing hobbit fic because they're so sweet! As for Aiden and Mira, time will tell if this is the real thing.  
  
Bookworm2000 - I picture the result of the medicinal tea as being similar to what happens to me about half an hour after taking two Nyquil liquicaps - orbit! Those hobbits are sly, aren't they? Give Aiden and Mira a little time and let nature take its course. Who knows what will happen?  
  
Kay - Bilbo Baggins, matchmaker! I'm glad you like the OC's. I've just realized that I've trotted out a large number of them in this fic! Aiden's cute when he's wonky!  
  
Aratlithiel - OUR Frodo? Brawling in pubs? How prophetic! (For the curious, please see "Nigh On September", originated by Aratlithiel and helped along with an action scene by yours truly.) What a lucky turn of events that a pretty, unattached healer should meet our conveniently available wounded hero, eh?  
  
Krista - Perhaps Aiden has indeed found someone special. We gave Frodo a break from the angst here, since I owe him big time for all I subjected him to earlier. Hope he forgives me! We'll be seeing Merry's reaction to Frodo's decision about Hobbiton soon.  
  
Pebbles - Thanks for your review! Will Merry throw a wrench into Frodo's plans to go to Bag End? Read on! You'll find out!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - It would be fun to have a further story regarding Aiden and Mira. I'd be willing to think of that in the future, maybe as a side project. It likely wouldn't be posted here, though, unless I can get the Tolkien characters into it somehow. I'd like to hug Bilbo myself. He cares so much for Frodo! And will anyone who has never heard an adult say "you'll understand someday" please stand up? Uh huh. I thought so.  
  
Curious Cat - I thought a little break from the angst was deserved. And yes, it was good to see Dolan do something to redeem himself. You may not get to hear him admit that he made a mistake, but at least he tried to put things right before he rode off into obscurity.  
  
Midgette - Hurrah for Aiden! He needs someone to love him as he deserves.  
  
TTTurtle - The sequel is being written right now, and will be titled "Baggins of Hobbiton". Frodo is older than Merry by just enough to have a better understanding of the concept of falling in love, or being smitten by the charms of the opposite sex. I have a feeling Merry will get the point soon enough!  
  
Heartofahobbit - A lot of good questions! Aiden deserves a future, and he will have one. As for the ruffians, there are answers ahead. I don't plan any nasty vengeance from them toward Aiden at this point, though. I would like to see Aiden again in future stories, if the plotbunny will let him in.  
  
Iorhael - Ahh, yes. What to do with those two naughty hobbits back in Buckland. We'll deal with them! More angst for Frodo? Maybe just a little more. I know he has a few things he wants to say to them!  
  
Fool of a Took - Wondering if I'll twist the plot again? Maybe so, maybe no. I do plan to see Aiden rewarded for his kindness. Merry's mind just isn't on romance yet. Give him a few years, and he'll be chasing the lasses all over Buckland!  
  
Chapter 23 - An Invitation  
  
~*~The Prancing Pony, morning~*~  
  
"You're up and about early," Bilbo observed as Aiden poured himself a cup of tea. His left arm was in a sling, but otherwise he looked and felt much more like himself.  
  
"I must be truthful, Bilbo," Aiden said as he placed the kettle back over the fire. "Sleeping on so small a bed is starting to put some amazing knots in muscles I was unaware that I had."  
  
Bilbo laughed at the statement, admitting to himself that it was bound to be true. A hobbit - sized bed just couldn't be comfortable for a man of Aiden's height. "Hmm, yes. I can imagine," the aged hobbit answered, glancing across the room to where Frodo lay sleeping.  
  
The lad was getting stronger by the hour, it seemed, and Bilbo was pleased to see such immediate progress. They really should be starting for Buckland soon, now that Frodo was recovering. He looked back up at Aiden and smiled ruefully.  
  
"He's quite fond of you, you know," Bilbo told the man who stood beside him. "He has good reason to be." Bilbo was extremely glad that Frodo had made the acquaintance of the young merchant. Had Aiden not intervened, Bilbo was not certain he would ever have seen Frodo again.  
  
"Thank you, Bilbo. I am fond of him as well." Aiden sipped his tea thoughtfully. "Frodo may be young yet, but he has a great heart within him. He has been a good friend."  
  
At that moment, Frodo's heretofore peaceful rest came to an abrupt end as one small fist flailed in the air, as if to ward off the advance of an invisible assailant. His brows knit together and he began to mumble. As the mumbling became louder and more agitated, both Bilbo and Aiden moved as one toward Frodo, intent upon waking him and freeing him from the grip of the obviously unpleasant dream.  
  
Bilbo reached out slowly, speaking quietly as he did. "Frodo, wake up, lad. You're dreaming, my boy. It's all right - " As his fingers brushed against Frodo's cheek, the young hobbit woke with a violent start, recoiling and breathing hard. The wild look in his eyes began to diminish as reality reappeared around him.  
  
Bilbo immediately pulled the shaking youth to him in a protective embrace. "Dreams, Frodo, nothing more. They cannot hurt you, lad." Frodo grasped Bilbo's shoulders and hung on for dear life as he tried to force the images from his mind. Aiden stood by the bedside, feeling powerless to help his young friend.  
  
Suddenly Frodo's eyes opened and he looked up at Aiden from within Bilbo's embrace. He reached out with one hand toward the man who had risked so much to save him, and Aiden bent to grasp the small hand in his. Moments passed in silent understanding as Frodo battled tears and the spectre of recent, terrifying memories.  
  
"Thank you," Frodo said to both of them as he wrestled the dream away from his mind and into the shadow from whence it came. "I thought I was there again, with them." He was breathing normally again and was fully awake, aware of his surroundings.  
  
"You've nothing to fear now, my lad," Bilbo told him firmly. He was trying not to imagine Frodo alone in his room at Brandy Hall, fighting off such nightmares with no one nearby to notice or ease his distress.  
  
Would Frodo want to move to Bag End with him? So much had been happening that he hadn't yet had the time or privacy to speak with the boy. Perhaps there would be a quiet moment sometime soon when he could broach the subject.  
  
"I would like to make a suggestion," Aiden said suddenly. "I am certain you will all be leaving for the Shire soon, but before you go, I would like to offer you the hospitality of my home. It would please me greatly if you would consent to spend your last night in Bree at my house."  
  
Frodo smiled at the idea. "May we, Uncle Bilbo?" he asked. "It would be so much better than here at the inn." He had liked the clean, quiet little house, and it would be nice to be there just once more.  
  
"I see no reason why we should turn down such a fine invitation," Bilbo answered. They would be leaving soon, it was true. Frodo was mending quickly and Sara and Merry must return home soon. They were in for it as it was, but Esmeralda's wrath would strengthen with every day of their absence.  
  
"I shall consider the matter settled, then," Aiden said. "I will be leaving for home shortly to prepare." He had never hosted four hobbits before, and if what Frodo told him about their eating habits held true, he had some work to do. "When can I expect you?"  
  
"How are you feeling, Frodo?" Bilbo asked the young hobbit solicitously. "We will consider journeying home only when you feel you're up to it."  
  
Frodo stretched and rose, taking a brief inventory as he did so. His muscles didn't ache so badly anymore, and the worst of the discomfort from his back had faded. The marks from the beating were now beginning to itch as the healing process continued, and were really more annoying than painful.  
  
"I feel much better, Uncle," Frodo replied. "Would it be too soon if we came this evening?" Frodo's question was directed to Aiden. "I think you'll need some help about the house with your arm as it is. How are you going to go about making supper that way?"  
  
Aiden laughed, but he had to admit Frodo was right. "You do have a valid point, Frodo. If I'm to cook supper for five, I will indeed require more than one good hand to do so."  
  
"I'll help you," Frodo said happily. "I know my way around the kitchen as it is."  
  
"Frodo insisted upon lending a hand about the house," Aiden told Bilbo, and the old hobbit beamed proudly. "I had to all but chase him away from the washbasin after meals, and if I failed to get there ahead of him, he was cooking the meals for me."  
  
Frodo's face reddened a little, but he kept smiling. "It was the least I could do under the circumstances," he countered, thinking of all that his new friend had done and risked for him.  
  
"Then I shall expect you by late this afternoon." Aiden laid a hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Until then, my friend." He nodded to Bilbo, picked up his cloak and left the room quietly, so as not to wake Saradoc or Merry who were still sleeping.  
  
"A very fine friend you've made, my boy," Bilbo acknowledged. "You'll miss him, won't you lad?"  
  
"Yes, Uncle. I know I will," Frodo answered rather sadly. His expression brightened again as he thought of something. "I don't think he's going to be lonely, Uncle."  
  
Biblo chuckled softly, immediately understanding what Frodo was getting at. "That healer likes him, I believe. They make a handsome pair indeed."  
  
"Gossiping again, Bilbo?" Saradoc said sleepily. He sat up and put his feet on the floor, grumbling under his breath about the cold surface. He poked Merry a couple of times, and received sleepy protests for his troubles. "On your feet, lad. The day begins."  
  
Frodo walked across the room to lightly shake his sleepy cousin. "Wake up, Merry. It's time for breakfast." Merry stopped fighting the inevitable and sat up, rubbing his eyes. Upon seeing Frodo up on his feet and color in his face again, the younger lad sprang out of bed and hugged him ecstatically.  
  
"Frodo! You look so much better!" Merry's words came out in a rush as he embraced his favorite cousin. "I knew you would be all right." He had been so worried when he had seen that strange dark - haired man carrying Frodo into the room, almost unconscious and wrapped in a cloak. All he had wanted then was to see his cousin laughing and smiling, and now his wish was granted.  
  
"Easy, Mer! You'll knock me right back down again," Frodo chided him gently. "I'm feeling just fine now, thanks to everyone here." He disengaged himself from Merry's embrace. "I'll tell you the entire tale over breakfast," he promised.  
  
True to his word, Frodo told everyone the entire story from the moment he had awakened to find Reginard and Bargo in his room right up to the last, terrifying moments after Bilbo had stopped Gavin from strangling him. He paused here and there to answer Merry's many questions, and a few from Bilbo and Saradoc. The Master of Buckland was glowering angrily by the end of the tale.  
  
"Frodo, I must apologize." As Frodo looked at him in surprise and confusion, Saradoc continued. "I cannot help but think that all you have endured might have been prevented had I but noticed - "  
  
Frodo shook his head. "I'm to blame as well," he said thoughtfully. "I didn't tell anyone about a lot of things, and I should have. I kept far too much to myself regarding Reginard and Bargo."  
  
"Those lads have a great deal of music to face when we get back to Buckland," Saradoc said sternly.  
  
Bilbo's eyes shone with anger. "A tune that will be unpleasant to their ears, but must be played nonetheless." He turned his gaze to Frodo. "Rest assured, lad. They'll be held accountable for this. You'll have naught to fear from them again."  
  
Frodo considered for a moment. "I don't know that what I feel is fear, exactly," he began uncertainly. Did he truly fear the two anymore after all that he'd seen and experienced recently? "I'm angry with them, Uncle, but I don't think I fear them."  
  
Bilbo looked at Frodo sharply and a smile crossed his face. "What a brave lad you are, Frodo," he said proudly. "If you have no fear of them, they have no power over you."  
  
Frodo looked down at his plate and smiled. Bilbo was right! If he didn't fear his enemies, they were diminished, small and insignificant things with no authority. Bargo and Reginard paled in comparison with things he had seen and survived these past few days, and he would no longer look at them with fear in his eyes.  
  
~*~  
  
The four hobbits took their luncheon in the common room of the Prancing Pony, gathered about a table that was built to suit their size. Butterbur puttered about busily, and paused by their table to ask after them.  
  
"Would any of you like an ale, little masters?" He said jovially. "It's a fine brew and reasonably priced," he cajoled, ever the salesman.  
  
Bilbo thought for a moment. He looked at Frodo meaningfully, and replied in the affirmative. "Yes, my good man, I believe I would like to sample the brew you speak of. One half - pint please, and one for the lad too."  
  
Frodo looked a bit surprised, although Butterbur did not. Apparently the innkeeper couldn't tell the difference between a tween of twenty - one years and a grown hobbit of thirty - three.  
  
"Don't gape, lad. You're the same age I was when my old Da stood me my first half," Bilbo told Frodo. "Not that I want you hanging about the pubs all day and night, mind you, but you're a right big lad now and able to take your ale accordingly."  
  
Saradoc ordered an ale as well, and Merry waited in anticipation for his father to order one for him also. When that failed to happen, he crossed his arms in consternation.  
  
"Can I have one too, then?" Merry wheedled. "I'm almost as old as Frodo."  
  
Saradoc rolled his eyes. "Merry, Frodo is twenty - one years old. You're not yet a tween, and - "  
  
"But I'm close," Merry said evenly. "Just a half - pint won't do me any harm, Father."  
  
"Don't be so stuffy, Sara," Bilbo chimed in, taking Merry's part as Frodo looked on in amused silence. "What harm could it do?"  
  
Saradoc sighed. Everyone was against him. "You may have a few sips of mine, but don't tell your mother," he said sternly. Almost as an afterthought, he pointed a finger at Bilbo and said, "You either, you rascal!"  
  
"My mother is no longer living," Bilbo quipped, his gaze not flinching from Saradoc's. Frodo fought the laugh that felt like it was starting all the way down at his toes and working its way upward, gaining strength as it went. He gave in to it as a huge grin invaded his face.  
  
"Wise - apple!" Saradoc shot back. The laughter spread around the table to engulf the entire party, a wave of mirth that was welcome and undeniably deserved.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	24. Final Night in Bree

Bookworm2000 - Bilbo is tricky, isn't he? The same skill with words that helped him deal with gollum allows him to tease heck out of Saradoc too!  
  
Midgette - I hate to see the end of the story coming too, since it's been so much fun writing and posting it. But the next one is just around the corner!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - I also wonder at what age a hobbit is allowed to have an ale. I am assuming that few wait until the age of 33 when they're considered to be fully adults for all practical purposes. For the sake of this fic, I'm assuming that somewhere around 21 is considered old enough. Merry's still a little young, so that's why he didn't get a half - pint of his own. Poor dear!  
  
Pebbles - Another happy chapter last time. Bilbo's offer will be dealt with very soon.  
  
Heartofahobbit - I'm glad you've enjoyed my stories, and I hope you'll stick around for any that I come up with in the future. I sent you an e- mail about uploading stories to ff.net, and I hope it's helpful!  
  
Gayalondiel - Will Frodo show his newfound confidence to Bargo and Reginard? Soon you'll know the answer to that question! Glad you like the hobbit interaction. It's so fun to write!  
  
TTTurtle - We have a few more to go before we reach the end, but sadly, we are getting close. Frodo has seen some pretty scary stuff since leaving the Shire. Bargo and Reginard may be rotten, but Frodo knows they can be dealt with. A little Bree hospitality coming up!  
  
Krista - The tension between Bilbo and Saradoc is certainly less than it was, now that a few things have been worked out. I will have Frodo confront Bargo and Reginard one last time. This incident did help Frodo to grow personally. He knows that he's got the strength to survive now.  
  
Fool of a Took - Bilbo and Saradoc are contributing to the delinquency of - what? I'll have to ponder that one. I'd say after Frodo's adventures, an ale isn't likely to harm him. Poor Sardoc is bowing to pressure isn't he? I don't think Aiden will mind a hobbit party at his place. After all, it's just for one night, not for all time. If they were staying much longer, though, food might get to be a little scarce!  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Maybe you're thinking of ale as tasting sweet when the hobbits drink it because they're so sweet? You mention the same Merry passage as others have. I don't know what it is, but I just can see Merry so clearly in my mind. He does or says something, and I write it obediently.  
  
FantasyFan - Lots of hobbity happiness in the last chapter. The interlude is coming slowly to an end, as they prepare to return to the Shire. There are indeed loose ends to tie together when they get there.  
  
Aratlithiel - Even the Master of Buckland has to have a laugh sometimes. Frodo is almost back to normal now. Merry is growing up quick, isn't he? Going to Bree, having ale with the big boys - he just might be chasing girls pretty soon after all! Aiden's going to have that 'herd of hobbits' at his door yet!  
  
Chapter 24 - Final Night in Bree  
  
~*~Aiden's house, late afternoon~*~  
  
Saradoc paid the stable master for an extra night for their pony, and Frodo led the way to the quiet house that had sheltered him. They would rest there for the night, and retrieve the pony on the way to the gate and home.  
  
Home - what a strange thought! Frodo hadn't been away from Brandy Hall for very long, but it seemed like ages. Still, it was home, wasn't it? He thought of the library with its hundreds of books and maps, his own small room which he'd not been made to share with anyone, even in the crowded warren that was Brandy Hall. The orchards brimming over with sweet, juicy apples at harvest, the hayfields lying golden in the sunlight and the river - yes, even the river came to mind as a part of the tableau which was home. And it seemed the river no longer mocked him, but merely was. It had its place, flowing steadily along between the banks as it always had and always would.  
  
In a state of hopelessness and fear during his forced journey to Bree, Frodo had thought bitterly that Brandy Hall was not home, and that in truth a home was something he had not had since the loss of his parents. What made a place home then? If it was the presence of those who loved you and knew your love in return, Brandy Hall was home. Merry was there, and surely he loved Frodo as much as Frodo loved him. Shelter and physical comforts were provided by the Hall as well. Were they not part of what could be called home? If so, why did he feel so misplaced there?  
  
There would be time to think of such things later, he reminded himself as they reached the door of the quiet little house. For now, he was surrounded by those he loved most, old friends and new, and nothing to threaten him.  
  
"My guests have arrived," Aiden said with a grin as he welcomed the hobbits to his home. "Please make yourselves comfortable in the parlor," he said, taking their cloaks one by one and hanging them up with his good hand. His left arm was still in the sling, so Frodo made for the kitchen immediately to help prepare tea.  
  
Merry looked around curiously. Aside from the Prancing Pony, this was the first time he had been inside any of the dwellings of men. How strange that the doors weren't round, and the entire structure was above the ground! And everything in it was so large! When he hopped up onto the sofa, his feet dangled several inches off the floor. It was almost comical to see Frodo standing on a chair in the kitchen to reach the cupboard where the cups and saucers were neatly stacked.  
  
Within a few moments, tea was steeping, bread was warming, and the preparation of what promised to be a fine meal was underway in the kitchen. What Frodo couldn't reach Aiden handed down to him, and Frodo in turn acted as a second pair of hands to help accomplish what was difficult for Aiden with his injury.  
  
Aiden and Frodo rejoined the rest of the group in the parlor, sipping tea and warming themselves before the fire. Aiden carefully removed the sling and flexed his arm. It was sore, and likely would be for some days, but the wound was already healing and he was able to move it more each time he made an effort.  
  
He hoped that Mira would be pleased with his progress. The thought brought a smile to his face. A wounded arm was a small price to pay for a good reason to call on her. His eyes were drawn inevitably to the portrait above the mantel.  
  
"They would be pleased, I think," Bilbo said, as if reading the man's thoughts. Frodo had told him of Aiden's family and his loss three years earlier. "One cannot mourn forever, my good man," Bilbo stated firmly. "Somehow I doubt that they would wish you to do so."  
  
"Well said, Bilbo," Aiden replied, still gazing at the portrait. "I believe you are correct, although it seems strange somehow." He had honestly thought he would remain alone indefinitely following Morinda's death. In his grief he had not been able to imagine otherwise. Now, here in this warm, cheerful room, surrounded by new friends and new possibilities, he felt somehow that Morinda would understand and would possibly even be relieved to find him eschewing his loneliness.  
  
"Though they are no longer present physically in your life, they will never really leave you," Bilbo said, sipping his tea thoughtfully. "Just because your life continues and changes doesn't mean you will ever forget them or treasure their memory any less."  
  
"What a wise uncle you have, Frodo," Aiden said with genuine admiration. "Wise and quite mysterious, if I may," he ventured, giving Bilbo a sly look. "That was quite a trick you managed the other night."  
  
Bilbo chuckled. He hadn't really thought he would be allowed to get away with disappearing right in front of them and not explaining himself afterward. "I hope you are in the mood for an extraordinary tale, for I have one or two," he said, and Saradoc rolled his eyes.  
  
Merry and Frodo grinned at each other. It was always fun to hear Bilbo tell his stories, even if they'd heard them before. After all, how many hobbits in the Shire counted Wizards, Elves and Dwarves among their friends, and had traveled to far away lands?  
  
Bilbo launched into the tale of the discovery of the ring in Gollum's cave and the game of riddles that followed. Laughter rang out as Bilbo told of the final 'riddle' he had used to best the creature.  
  
"Quite a tale indeed, Bilbo," Aiden acknowledged. "Who would have thought such a thing could come in so handy even years hence?"  
  
Bilbo patted his weskit pocket rather wistfully. "Very useful indeed, it seems, but I believe Gandalf would glower at me for making use of it. He has been rather odd about the subject on occasion," he mused. Trust a Wizard to find something to worry about, especially if it involved a magic ring.  
  
A loud rapping at the door interrupted the conversation. "Now who could that be?" Aiden mused, rising to answer the summons. Standing on the doorstep were none other than Otto Mugwort and Anton Burrows.  
  
"A pleasure to see both of you," Aiden said, ushering them inside. "What brings you by, gentlehobbits?"  
  
Mugwort eyed him with mild concern. "We'd heard you had some trouble and we came by to see if we could be of help." His gaze roved around the room and found the other hobbits in the parlor. "We didn't know you had guests. Please forgive the intrusion."  
  
Aiden laughed. "It's no intrusion at all, my friend." He introduced Bilbo, Saradoc and Merry, as Frodo poured two more cups of tea for the newcomers. Within moments, they were all shaking hands and family trees in true hobbit fashion, as Aiden and Frodo stepped into the kitchen to see to the rest of the supper preparations.  
  
Animated conversation and laugher floated through the house as the fire crackled merrily. Aiden was suddenly very glad that the Fever had spared him, for moments such as this were well worth living for.  
  
~*~Aiden's house, the following morning~*~  
  
Frodo folded a shirt and handed it to Bilbo, watching as the aged hobbit tucked it into his pack. "I'm sorry your visit didn't go as planned, Uncle," he said quietly. "I'm sure you never expected - "  
  
"Frodo, there is no need at all to apologize to me," he said sternly. "None of this was any fault of yours, my boy."  
  
Frodo nodded. He knew Bilbo was right, but he still felt as if much inconvenience had come about because of him. "I never dreamed anything like this could happen," he said quietly. "It's been an extraordinary adventure, and while I will miss Aiden, it will be good to be home again."  
  
"Hmmmm," Bilbo grunted. How to begin, regarding that very subject? "Frodo, are you happy at Brandy Hall? I mean truly happy?" Bilbo searched Frodo's face for any glimmer of the truth he sought.  
  
Frodo looked at Bilbo suspiciously. "Well, yes. That is, I suppose I am. I never lack for anything I need, and Merry is always there for me. Why do you ask?"  
  
Bilbo took a deep breath. It was now or never. "There is more to being happy than merely being provided for, lad. I know Merry is a good friend to you, but what of your true feelings regarding the Hall?" He stopped packing and turned to hold Frodo's gaze with his own. "I've seen the look in your eyes, my boy. I've seen how you keep to yourself so much of the time. I remember our conversation in the hayloft several years ago, when you said that unless you're in trouble, no one seems to notice you."  
  
Frodo cast his eyes down and fidgeted with one of the straps on the pack. "I cannot deny that I feel rather out of place from time to time." He pictured one of those old wooden puzzles he had played with as a child. The pieces all fit together to make the shape of something recognizable, but only if they were in their proper places. Was he not in his proper place then?  
  
"Frodo, I have been thinking about this for some time, and recent events have pressed me to make a decision. I feel less and less that Brandy Hall is the best place for you," Bilbo said quietly, hoping he wasn't pushing the boy away from him somehow. "I want you to consider coming back to Bag End with me."  
  
Frodo's head snapped up and he stared at Bilbo with a surprised expression. "You mean, you want me to come to Hobbiton? To - to stay?" Frodo was trying to imagine living in a place like Bag End. It had been described to him as such a large, spacious dwelling, and with no crowd of relatives to be constantly pressing in around him.  
  
"Regardless of what is to be done about Bargo and Reginard, I feel that Bag End would be more suited to you, lad. You would be safe and comfortable there, Frodo." Bilbo allowed a smile to lift the corners of his mouth. "I know an old, cranky, eccentric hobbit like me is a poor substitute for the young, lively company you have in Merry, but you would have privacy when you want it, a great lot of books to read and countryside to roam. I should like to begin teaching you the basics of Elvish, if you've an interest in the language," Bilbo offered, hoping he wasn't overwhelming the lad.  
  
"How extraordinary!" Frodo was looking off into space, with an odd look on his face. He would indeed miss Merry very much if he were to leave Brandy Hall, but the thought of going to Bag End appealed to him very much. He would love to learn Elvish, and he truly enjoyed Bilbo's company.  
  
"The fact is, Frodo lad, I care for you very much and I cannot stand to see you feeling sad, frightened or lonely. I cannot brook the idea of you being in danger of any sort, and the events of the last few days have quite decided me on the issue." Bilbo's eyes shone with unshed tears as he spoke. "The choice is yours entirely, but I am urging you to choose Bag End."  
  
Frodo felt a lump rising in his throat as he thought back to how Bilbo had consoled him in the hayloft, and had gotten him to admit the trouble he was having with his enemies. And now he had come all the way to Bree and risked everything to save him, to protect him and bring him home. Not just to take him back to where he came from, but to offer him a true home, a place where he could belong without question.  
  
Without a word, Frodo flung his arms around Bilbo and hugged him hard. When he could finally speak, he said, "Yes, Uncle! I will go with you to Bag End, if you wish. I would like that very much. More than anything."  
  
"From now on, we can celebrate our birthdays together," Bilbo joked, trying to break the tension. He was answered by a small laugh from Frodo and another hug.  
  
The two stood and embraced in silence, and Frodo felt for the first time since he was very young that he was truly going home. He wasn't going someplace where his family was forced to make room for him suddenly and to provide for him because it was their duty. He was going where he was actually wanted, where he would be accepted and loved for who he was. Home.  
  
~*~  
  
"Are you ready for your journey back to the Shire, Frodo?" Aiden asked quietly. Frodo nodded. A moment later the young hobbit gave up the search for appropriate words and simply hugged his friend with all his might.  
  
"I miss my home, but I shall miss you too," Frodo finally said. "I still have not properly repaid your kindness."  
  
"Repay it by being well and being safe, young friend," Aiden replied.  
  
"Will I ever see you again?" Frodo thought it unlikely. Aiden's travels to the Shire usually took him to the southern regions where most of the pipeweed plantations were to be found. As Merry had noted at the inn, Buckland was out of the way, not to mention Hobbiton.  
  
"One never knows what road one may travel, Frodo," Aiden said, smiling. "If you should find yourself in Bree with any time to spare, you and your family are always welcome here."  
  
"Thank you," Frodo said as Bilbo came to stand at his side.  
  
"We must be off, Frodo," Bilbo prodded gently. "Aiden, your kindness will not be forgotten. Thank you for taking care of our dear boy."  
  
"A pleasure, Bilbo. Safe journey to you all." Amid waving and well - wishing, the hobbits turned and made their way toward the inn to collect the pony.  
  
As they walked, Bilbo draped an arm over Frodo's shoulders. "Saying goodbye to a friend is never easy, Frodo," he sighed. "For every greeting there is a farewell. It's simply the nature of things."  
  
"And I shall have to say farewell to Merry soon as well," Frodo said quietly, watching as Merry walked ahead of him at his father's side. "Do you think I'll find new friends in Hobbiton, Uncle?" Frodo desperately wanted an end to his lonely, misplaced feelings. What if he arrived in Hobbiton and found only indifference or worse?  
  
"You needn't worry about finding friends, my dear lad. The Gamgees live a few doors down from Bag End and are a lively lot," Bilbo explained. "Their youngest boy, Samwise, is a little younger than you and Merry, but he's a friendly lad. His older brothers are solid chaps as well." He began to list more names. "There are the Boffins and Goodbodies, and many more families you'll become acquainted with."  
  
As they walked, Bilbo continued to talk of Bag End and Hobbiton, and Frodo smiled at the promises of long walks in the morning sunshine and studying Elvish by the fire in the evenings. He would be happy there, he was certain, and thinking about it helped drive away his sorrow at parting with his newfound friend.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	25. Back to Buckland

Chapter 25 - Back to Buckland  
  
Gentle Hobbit - I know it was hard getting through those chapters where Frodo was being hurt. They were hard to write! I'm glad you stayed on, though. You've read my mind as far as continuing the story. The sequel, "Baggins of Hobbiton" is in the works. Remember that agreement between Bilbo and Saradoc that if the first 6 months don't work out Frodo can go back to Buckland? Imagine what happens when Lotho finds out about it! Lotho decides he will get Frodo to go back to Buckland and sets about trying to make it happen.  
  
Aelfgifu - I had fun writing the humor in the last chapter. I think all the characters were ready for a little laughter by then. We'll be taking care of those hobbit bad boys real soon. There will be some bittersweet moments for Merry and Frodo, and definitely some unpleasantness for Bargo and Reginard.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Frodo and Aiden's goodbye is sad, but there is still Hobbiton for Frodo. I let Bilbo mix up Sam and Merry's ages, it seems. Sam is actually 2 years older than Merry. It could be a spot of fun letting someone correct him on that in the sequel!  
  
Curious Cat - Thank you for your compliments on the last chapter. You're right, all children should be both loved and cherished. Good thing Bilbo and Saradoc seem to love and cherish Frodo and Merry!  
  
Iorhael - We will see what Frodo chooses, and whether he is happy with his choice. Some of that is answered here, and more in the sequel.  
  
Narikia - Thanks for joining in. Aiden will miss Frodo, but he does indeed have someone new in his life to occupy his thoughts. A sequel is in the works, definitely. I'm not sure at this point whether Aiden will be in it, but I'll know as soon as my muse tells me.  
  
Trust No One - The light - hearted interaction was a joy to write, and I'm glad you enjoyed reading it. If you're sorry to see this story end, you might want to hang around for a sequel I'm working on called "Baggins of Hobbiton". It covers the first 6 months or so of Frodo's time in Hobbiton, that critical period where Frodo can decide for himself whether he wants to stay in Hobbiton or go back to Brandy Hall. Lotho will be a big part of this story.  
  
Tavion - I too, picture Ian Holm in his role as Bilbo. I think he was just so perfect for it, and that is the image in my mind when I'm writing. Bargo and Reginard will be dealt with. It would be fun to sell them to the Big Folk too, but I don't know if anyone would care to buy them!  
  
Gayalondiel - We'll see how Merry deals with Frodo's departure. Aiden will have happy times ahead, I promise!  
  
TTTurtle - No big descriptions of the hobbit feast, I'm afraid, but a good time for them anyhow. A showdown is coming up in another chapter or so. You never know, Frodo and Aiden may meet again. My muse is in charge of that, and I'm just waiting for instructions!  
  
Shirebound - Glad you enjoyed the happy chapter. We may not be entirely done with happy yet, but it is time for Merry to face his feelings regarding Frodo's departure.  
  
Bookworm2000 - I don't think Aiden would be happy about Frodo being the Ringbearer. He wouldn't like to see his little friend in such terrible danger. Still, on another level, he might understand why it had to be Frodo.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
"We're almost there, Frodo!" Merry said enthusiastically. They had done it, beaten Bargo and Reginard at their game, and come back triumphant, whole and together.  
  
The journey home had gone well. There had been no ill weather or mishaps, and Frodo had made a relatively easy job of it in spite of his ordeal. Bilbo had commented more than once that the resilience of youth should be bottled and sold, in which case he would stand first in line to obtain his supply. That, of course, engendered a stream of remarks from Saradoc regarding Bilbo's own seeming refusal to age as a proper hobbit should.  
  
Merry had been rather quiet during the journey, lost in thought regarding the impending departure of his friend and cousin. Every time he began to feel sorrow or anger at the thought of Frodo's leaving, he chased it away with thoughts of his cousin, happy and healthy, safe at Bag End with the benefit of Bilbo's unconditional love. Frodo deserved at least that much, if not so much more. If the trials one suffered gave one strength, there should be none stronger in all of Middle Earth than Frodo Baggins!  
  
Frodo, for his own part, felt adrift between two shores. He had already bidden farewell to one friend and was soon to leave another, and there was no denying the sense of emptiness that grew within him at the thought. At the same time, he was thrilled with the prospect of his move to Hobbiton. So many new things awaited him there! He imagined new sights and sounds, new routines and friendships.  
  
He was already beginning to learn Elvish, for he and Bilbo had passed much of the time on the journey back from Bree by reciting various words and phrases back and forth. In the light of the campfire every night along the way, Frodo had traced the shapes of elegant Elvish letters in the dirt with the end of a stick, memorizing their forms and thinking about how they would look flowing across a page.  
  
Perhaps Bilbo would be able to introduce him to some Elves! He realized he was also likely to meet the Wizard, Gandalf the Grey, and maybe even Dwarves as well. Let other hobbits say what they would about Bilbo Baggins, but Frodo thought him absolutely grand.  
  
"Frodo, lad!" Bilbo enthused as he raised his hand to give Frodo a companionable slap on the back. He broke off the action abruptly as images of the cruel, bleeding whip welts rose in his mind. He instead let his hand fall lightly upon Frodo's shoulder. "Here you are, back again, safe and whole!"  
  
"Thanks to you, Uncle." Frodo smiled as he walked along the riverbank. "Thanks to all of you, for without you I would be - " he couldn't finish. He would be what? Dead, very possibly, he realized as he unconsciously brought a hand to his throat.  
  
"It is Bilbo who may lay claim to the title of hero, I'm afraid," Saradoc acknowledged. "I know I said as much earlier, but I must formally apologize to you, Frodo, for I was remiss in my duty toward you in not preventing what occurred and in not acting more swiftly for your recovery."  
  
Frodo knew he was gaping, but that knowledge did not empower him to stop. "But - But there's no need, really," he stammered. How could it be that he merited a formal apology from the Master of Buckland?  
  
"Yes, Frodo, there is a need," Saradoc continued very seriously. "I was late in calling for a search to commence because I thought you had just gone in search of some privacy. Merry tried to tell me something had to be amiss, but I thought he was overreacting. I have learned my lesson, and I will not discount his opinion again." At this, he looked fondly at Merry, who beamed back at his father, pleased to have been afforded acknowledgement of his maturity.  
  
"But you came for me, nonetheless, and I thank you," Frodo replied as Saradoc clasped his hand in the manner of adult gentlehobbits.  
  
"Come on, Frodo! Let's get back to the Hall and clean up," Merry suggested. The thought of a hot bath and a good meal were enough to give new stamina to weary feet, and the two youngsters dashed forward down the path that led to Brandy Hall.  
  
"Bilbo, I owe you an apology as well, and I hope you will accept it," Saradoc said, facing the elder hobbit. "I was just as guilty of brushing your concerns aside as I was of paying ill attention to Merry's."  
  
"No harm done to my person or sensibilities, Sara," Bilbo answered. "I suggest we present a united front if at all possible, for we both must face the wrath of Esmeralda Brandybuck in the very near future, unless I miss my guess," he said conspiratorially.  
  
"As usual, you miss nothing!" Saradoc commented as he led the pack - laden pony along the path the two younger hobbits had just followed.  
  
They walked for a distance in silence. As they rounded the last bend in the path, they found themselves in the presence of a tempest of skirts and long, curly blonde tresses, of tears of joy and bursts of invective, as Esmeralda alternately embraced her husband and admonished Bilbo.  
  
"Saradoc! You were away so long, and how could you not bring Merry home immediately?" She didn't wait for an answer, but rounded on Bilbo instantly, pointed a finger in his face and shouted, "How could you, Bilbo? How could you allow Merry to leave the Shire on such a dangerous journey? He is too young to go traipsing about in the wild with you, or anyone else for that matter - "  
  
"Esmie, dearest, calm down," Saradoc soothed. "We are all here, all safe. Have Merry and Frodo have already reached the Hall then? "  
  
"Yes, I've seen them!" She was weeping openly now, as the tension of the last few days drained from her and boundless relief flooded in behind it. "He's all right. Merry is safe. Merry is safe - " She repeated the statement, as if savoring the meaning of it and the fact that it was true. "And Frodo! Oh, the poor lad, Sara! He really was taken to Bree then?"  
  
"He was indeed, my love," Saradoc answered softly. "Frodo has endured some very harsh treatment, but has made a fine recovery, and his tale is quite extraordinary. Come, Esmie. Let us retire to the Hall. We will speak of this at length, and we must make provisions for Frodo."  
  
Esmeralda looked at her husband in confusion. "For Frodo? But Sara, he is home. What more is to be done beyond offering him comfort and having the healer see to his complete recovery?" Her pretty face darkened as she considered what lay ahead. "We must see to it that Bargo and Reginard are punished as well."  
  
"They shall be, I promise you," Saradoc said gravely. "Frodo is to go with Bilbo to Hobbiton." Esmeralda could not have appeared more surprised if she tried.  
  
"To Hobbiton? Surely you mean temporarily, for a visit?" She looked at Bilbo for his input.  
  
"No, Esmie, my dear. Frodo will stay at Bag End." Bilbo looked at her steadily, not backing down in the slightest under the weight of her incredulous gaze. "Sara and I have discussed the matter at some length, and we believe it would be better for Frodo to be in an environment where more attention could be given to him personally."  
  
Esmeralda was stricken silent momentarily by the news. Saradoc took advantage of the opportunity to change the subject for the moment. It would be good to get settled in and rested before they pursued the subject of Frodo further. "Esmie, we must summon Bargo and Reginard's families to retrieve them. They are to be sent from the hall as soon as possible."  
  
"This is all so awful! Why didn't Frodo tell us the problem was still so serious?" She frowned, troubled by the memory of how Frodo had kept his silence.  
  
"Lads Frodo's age tend to be rather close about their problems, love," Saradoc answered. "They tend to wish to solve their problems on their own, rather than endure the embarrassment of intervention by their elders."  
  
Bilbo snorted. "I would say Frodo has endured considerably more than mere embarrassment as a result of his silence." He regarded Saradoc and Esmeralda earnestly. "Those lads are worse than most troublemakers, and I do not doubt that Frodo was made to fear reprisals if he spoke further."  
  
They continued to walk toward the hall, and a stable boy ran out to greet them. The young lad took the reins and led the pony away to be tended to. The packs would be brought to the hall and returned to their owners as soon as the pony was settled.  
  
~*~  
  
"Frodo?" Merry tapped on the door of his cousin's room. It was almost time for bed and he was extremely tired, but this wouldn't wait any longer. "Frodo, are you awake?"  
  
The door opened to reveal Frodo, looking tired but happy. As soon as he and Merry had appeared inside the Hall, they had been shuffled off to hot baths and supper was prepared for them. They had dined in the parlor of the Brandybucks' rooms, to avoid the crush of the dining hall and the barrage of questions that would surely greet them.  
  
"I'm still up, Mer. Come on in." Merry stepped into the room and pulled a chair up by the bed where Frodo had seated himself. "It feels strange to be back," Frodo commented. "So much was happening in Bree over the last few days, and yet nothing seems different here."  
  
"You do, Frodo." Merry's expression was grave and sad. "You seem different."  
  
Frodo frowned. "I do? How, Mer?"  
  
"It's hard to explain," Merry began, pulling absently at a thread protruding from the sleeve of his shirt. "You seem - you seem to be bigger than you were, stronger somehow, as if you've grown overnight."  
  
Frodo laughed a little. "I don't think I've grown any, Mer. Not physically, anyway." Frodo thought for a moment, and he believed he understood what Merry was trying to say. "I feel like something has changed inside somehow. I feel - I feel older," Frodo said, feeling at a loss to describe his change in perspective.  
  
"You're a tween, Frodo. I'm not, so I'm sure I don't understand everything you think and feel as well as I want to," Merry stopped pulling at the thread and looked at his cousin. "You're going away, aren't you?"  
  
Frodo looked at the floor, then back to Merry. "Yes, Mer. I'm sorry to be leaving because I'll miss you very much."  
  
"Why must you go, Frodo?" Merry questioned, his eyes shining with barely suppressed tears. "Bargo and Reginard are being sent from the Hall, so they won't trouble you anymore. You'll be safe here."  
  
"I know, Merry, but it's more than that," Frodo answered. He rose and paced across the room, trying to gather his thoughts into something coherent. "I feel so - so odd here sometimes, like a fork in a drawer full of spoons." The analogy was less than poetic, but simple in stating how different Frodo felt. "I think Bilbo understands that better than most people. Everyone says he's odd too."  
  
"I don't think you're odd, Frodo." Merry watched as Frodo stopped pacing and stood looking out the window. "You're just you."  
  
"Thank you for being so willing to accept me as such, cousin." Frodo turned away from the window and went back to sit on the bed. "I am different, though. I've never truly been comfortable here in Brandy Hall, for reasons I can't really explain. You've made it bearable Merry, by being my truest friend."  
  
"We'll still be friends, won't we?" Merry spoke very softly, as if fearing the answer. "You'll be far away, and I won't be able to see you often."  
  
"But you will see me, Merry. Bilbo and I will visit at every opportunity, and maybe you can come to Bag End." Frodo reached out and put a hand on Merry's shoulder. "You do know I'll miss you terribly, don't you?"  
  
Merry merely nodded, and embraced his cousin. "I'll miss you too," he said softly. "I just want you to be happy." They stood together for a while longer, ignoring the passage of time and trying to preserve the moment in their memories.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	26. Second Breakfast and Just Desserts

FantasyFan – Wow! Long review, but as you said, two chapters at the same time.  I struggled with how much explanation Bilbo would be willing to give about the Ring. I didn't really leave him an 'out' with the way I had him use it, did I?  I allowed him to explain a little bit, since the circumstances were rather extraordinary. He never would have used it at all, except to save Frodo. As to Bargo and Reginard, I can only do so much to them, as they're still tweens. But we'll take care of them. As to the sequel, my poor addled brain is dropping hints all the time. 

Aratlithel – Bilbo is great. I share Frodo's opinion of him. And poor Merry will have to deal with Frodo's departure, but he knows it's the best thing for him.

Krista – Frodo will indeed find a loyal friend in Sam. 

Camellia – Gamgee – Took – I'm sure Merry wouldn't mind if you came to see him, especially if you bring some of those cakes and iced buns you mentioned!

TTTurtle – Haven't the last few days been frustrating? No updating or reading fic! I will touch on the move to Hobbiton in the final chapter, which, I'm sad to say is after this one. Then I'll start posting the sequel! Those naughty boys will get theirs, at least as much as I'm allowed to give them within the framework of hobbity – ness. 

Heartofahobbit – I think Merry will grow from the experience of seeing Frodo off to Hobbiton. In the sequel, you will continue to see Frodo discovering his identity and making important realizations. I'm glad you're working on your own fic to post. If I can answer any questions, I'd be happy to, although I am little more than a novice myself. 

Shirebound – I'm glad you enjoyed the conversation between Merry and Frodo. Perhaps Frodo will not feel so odd in Hobbiton. 

Tavion – Merry and Frodo did have more sweet than bitter in their discussion, and there will be many sweet times and memories for them to come. We meet up with Bargo and Reginard again in this chapter. 

FrodoBaggins1982 – Don't go soft on Bargo and Reginard? Oh, wait and see! You are a good editor, finding the places where I didn't quite sweep up all the remnants of my revisions! 

Fool of a Took – Yeah, it's been a frustrating couple of days with the technical problems. Looking forward to Bargo and Reginard getting theirs? Look no further!

Midgette – Frodo's back where he belongs. Well, almost. And don't let the summary of the sequel scare you. Frodo's got some interesting experiences ahead, but in my opinion, not as rough as what I've put him through here. 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Author's note – Bargo and Reginard. Don't go easy on them, many of you said. I hope you find the contents of this chapter as pleasing as Frodo, Merry and Bilbo have!

Chapter 26 – Second Breakfast and Just Desserts. 

~*~Brandy Hall, Buckland, morning~*~

"Is this all?" Bilbo looked surprised when he saw the small number of bags and the single trunk that stood waiting beside the cart in the courtyard. 

Frodo had never thought too much about it, but he supposed he really didn't have a lot of personal possessions. The only things he could think of that he had ever truly wished to own were books, and the Hall library was available to everyone. If he wanted something to read, he had only to make the trip to those quiet rooms and choose from the many interesting volumes available. 

"This is all of it, Uncle," Frodo responded simply. "Are we leaving after second breakfast, then?"

"Soon after, Frodo lad," Bilbo answered, looking back toward the Hall. "I have a few more things to discuss with Saradoc before we depart." 

Frodo lifted the small trunk into the cart without assistance, as it was rather light. "All right, Uncle. I'm going to load these and I'll meet you in the library afterward," he said lightly. 

Bilbo nodded and turned to reenter the hall. He wanted to discuss with Saradoc the particulars of his plan to adopt Frodo formally. He planned not to reveal the fact that the adoption would also make the lad his heir to Frodo just yet. It wouldn't do to overwhelm the boy with too many changes at once. Let a few months pass, and the right time would come. 

Merry hailed from across the courtyard and made his way to the cart to help his cousin. "You're all ready then," Merry observed, looking from the baggage to Frodo's eyes. "I really am happy for you, Frodo. It would be selfish and wrong of me to be otherwise."

Frodo lifted the last of the bags, a battered leather knapsack, into the cart. He leaned against its wooden side and looked around the courtyard one last time. He would be back for visits, but this was the last time he would see Brandy Hall and perceive it as his home. The sun shone brightly and he lifted his face to its warm rays and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of fallen leaves as he spoke.

"Maybe I'm the one who's selfish, Merry. I'm leaving you here and going my own way, for no other reason than making myself feel better." Frodo sighed, and a sad smile raised the corners of his mouth. "You're very kind to understand, and I appreciate it more than I can say."

"We didn't do a very good job of losing you, looks like!" The moment was shattered as Frodo jumped at the sound of Bargo's voice from behind him. "What does it take to get rid of rats, anyhow?"

Frodo slowly turned to see Bargo and Reginard standing in front of him. It was a moment before he realized that he no longer felt any fear of them. Instead, indignation rose up within him and he steeled himself. 

"You'll answer for what you've done," Frodo said, looking from one to the other. "Your plan failed."

"Did it?" Reginard stepped closer. "I don't know, Frodo. In a way I kind of missed you. It might be fun to have you back." Frodo found himself wanting nothing more than to wipe the sneer from the other hobbit's face, and he held back with difficulty. Merry stood with his fists clenched and moved a step closer to Frodo.

"Well, you'll be disappointed in that respect as well, Reginard. I'm leaving the Hall." Frodo spoke the words without gloating. It was a mere statement of fact, meant to draw the conversation to an end as simply and as quickly as possible. 

"Awww, and after all we've been through together," Bargo chimed in. "Going to live with that old crackpot then?" He and Reginard stood in front of Frodo and Merry, keeping them backed up against the pony cart. Reginard shoved Merry backwards and sneered, "Hello, Brandybrat," as Bargo reached out to grab Frodo. 

"Don't speak to me of what 'we've' been through!" Frodo suddenly exploded. He batted Bargo's hand away disdainfully. "I won't waste time or breath telling you what I've been through as a result of your actions, but I will tell you that you couldn't have borne it." Frodo's eyes flashed and he met the somewhat startled gaze of his enemy steadily.  "You're gravely mistaken if you think you have strength enough in you to do anything further to me." Frodo's jaw was clenched and his teeth ground together as he hissed, "I've seen far worse than you."

"Look at that, Bargo. He says we don't scare him anymore," Reginard said loftily. "I'll bet I can change your mind about that, Frodo," he said, his voice filled with menace. Reginard suddenly swung at Frodo, who ducked the blow with room to spare. Bargo grabbed Merry and held him back.

Frodo's eyes were fairly blazing now, and he let the pain and the fear of the last week fuel his anger at the two hobbits in front of him. They had caused all of it! They had put him in harm's way for naught but sport, and he owed them a share of the agony he had suffered as a result. He remembered the ropes burning his wrists and the searing pain of the welts on his back, the feeling of utter helplessness as he'd succumbed to the drug that had robbed him of his consciousness. 

"You don't scare me, Reginard. Don't bother trying to, either." Frodo took a confident step forward as he spoke. "I won't give you the satisfaction."

"I don't care if you'll give it or not, Rat. I'll have it anyway," Reginard countered, aiming a blow at Frodo's midsection. Frodo was expecting it, and he clenched his muscles in preparation. He barely made a sound as the other lad's fist glanced off his abdomen. Reginard was caught off guard by his would be victim's response, and Frodo's fist connected squarely with his jaw. 

Reginard reeled backward, staggering in shock and confusion. Since when did Frodo stand up for himself? True, he had attempted to fight back when they had sneaked into his room, but they had seen his fear then. The hobbit who faced them now bore little resemblance to the cowering youth they had overpowered in the shadows that night.

"Get your hands off me or I'll tear them off, Bargo!" Merry shouted angrily, struggling to break Bargo's hold on him. The older lad recovered his senses and shoved Merry again, pushing him away from where Frodo and Reginard stood facing each other. 

"Feeling brave, Brandybrat? Did you and Frodo learn to fight while you were away?" Bargo laughed nastily as he approached Frodo.

"I learned more than you are capable of learning in a lifetime, Bargo," Frodo snarled, eyeing the other tween angrily. "It will take two of you to put me down, that I promise!" Frodo shoved Bargo away from him, looking into the older tween's eyes the entire time. 

Merry looked on in horror as Reginard suddenly belted Frodo, knocking him back against the side of the cart. His horror turned to elation as Frodo righted himself and spun around to give Reginard similar treatment. Bargo looked like he was going to attack Frodo as well, so Merry jumped on his back and held on. 

There was no further opportunity for any of the combatants to damage each other. As Reginard raised his fist to strike again, a larger, stronger hand closed around his wrist and held him back. Saradoc glowered at Reginard, his eyes full of stern warning. Bilbo separated Bargo and Merry, then stood behind Bargo, placing a hand firmly on the lad's shoulder. "I may be old, my lad, but I am not entirely without my wits or my agility." His voice grew colder as he continued to address the tween. "You're not so big that I cannot haul you behind the shed for a thorough hiding!"

Merry leapt to Frodo's side, wrapping his arms around his cousin. Frodo barely noticed that he had received a blow that was likely to leave a hefty bruise behind. He was still shaking with rage as Merry held him back. "Frodo, are you all right?" 

Frodo didn't answer right away. Bilbo held the young hobbit's gaze, and as he looked into the older Bilbo's eyes, the fire in his own dimmed, and his breathing became more even. "Yes, Merry," he replied rather tightly. "I'm fine."

"You lads had best get to work packing your things," Saradoc said, addressing Bargo and Reginard. "You denied involvement in Frodo's abduction, but your actions today are enough in and of themselves to demand your removal from the Hall." Reginard had the gall to look surprised. "What is more, I believe Merry and Frodo when they say you were responsible."

"It's their word against ours," Reginard said, daring to talk back to the Master of the Hall. 

"Is it?" Saradoc growled. "What else have we then that will verify the tale?" With that, he reached into Reginard's pocket and pulled out a single gold coin. The coin had been the only thing in the pocket, and Saradoc was sickened and angered to think Reginard had been carrying it with him as if it were some kind of trophy. "Twenty, weren't there? Ten each, in payment for delivering Frodo into the hands of those ruffians?"

Bargo's eyes were all but popping out of his head. Aghast that the story was known in such detail, he blurted, "We were just playin' a joke on him, and – "

"A joke?" Bilbo said icily. "A joke brings merriment to all and harm to none. Yours has failed in both regards." He looked pointedly at Frodo and continued, "Your joke very nearly cost Frodo his life."

Saradoc grabbed both of the miscreants by their collars. "Back to the Hall with you." He had been considering how to deal with the culprits, and he had decided on something he thought appropriate. He let go of Bargo just long enough to flip the lone gold coin in Frodo's direction. 

Frodo caught it and stood with it in the palm of his hand. He looked at it numbly, as Bilbo walked to his side. "I'm sorry, Frodo. I didn't think when I left you here alone." His voice was laden with guilt. 

"I'll be fine, Uncle," Frodo answered as he closed his fist around the coin. Merry hugged him fiercely. "I wasn't alone, either. Merry was with me."

"They're leaving, Frodo. You don't have to." Merry looked at Bilbo hopefully. "Does he, Uncle?"

"Frodo does not have to do anything he doesn't want to do, young Meriadoc," Bilbo answered. "He stays or goes by his own choice."

"Merry," Frodo breathed, closing his eyes. "I know I will be free of them either way, but I feel I must go to Hobbiton. I need to do this, Mer. It's – It's time." Buckland and Brandy Hall had been Frodo's childhood home, and he was no longer a child. He felt beckoned by something new, something else, and he felt ready to face it.

Merry looked downcast. "Do you promise to write to me then?"

"All the time, Mer." Frodo replied. "And we will visit, just like I said before."

"We certainly will," Bilbo said. "Dragons and cave trolls couldn't keep us away!" The colorful remark made both lads smile in spite of themselves. "Now, for second breakfast, and some ice for your jaw, Frodo. Reginard managed one good attempt before you answered him, it seems." 

Frodo rubbed his jaw as Merry said gleefully, "And Frodo answered him all right, didn't you Frodo?" Frodo smiled an affirmative. Bilbo wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and the other around Merry's. They headed into the Hall to enjoy their meal together, walking arm – in – arm. 

~*~

The dining hall was crowded when Frodo, Merry and Bilbo entered. Frodo found himself almost wishing he had taken his meal in a more private setting, as he looked around and saw many eyes watching him. What wild rumors had circulated regarding his absence, he wondered? 

The trio filled their plates and seated themselves, conversing quietly as they ate. 

"What do you suppose will happen to Bargo and Reginard?" Frodo asked. His question was met with a mischievous grin from Bilbo. 

"If I know the Master of the Hall, their punishment will be both inventive and thorough," Bilbo noted as he stabbed his fork into a large lump of scrambled eggs. He looked up toward the head table as the level of noise in the room rose slightly. "And public, it would appear."

Frodo and Merry looked on in amazement as Saradoc led Bargo and Reginard to the front of the room, onto a raised platform from which the Master would sometimes address the Hall during celebratory banquets. Saradoc was holding a large wooden paddle in his hands. 

"Uh – oh," Merry said ominously. "They're in for it now, I think."

Merry's words seemed prophetic as the Master of the Hall clapped his hands several times and demanded the attention of all present. 

"Everyone, your attention please, if I may," Saradoc said loudly. The noise in the room died down to a soft murmur. "Some disturbing events have occurred here at Brandy Hall recently, as I'm sure you are aware." There were nod of affirmation here and there. 

"The two lads you see before you are to be punished for their actions against another, actions which were unprovoked and caused great harm." Saradoc addressed Bargo and Reginard. "You will now confess to those assembled the acts for which you are being punished, and you each shall bear strokes in equal number to those borne by the victim of your misdeeds."

Frodo's eyes widened in disbelief. This was better than anything he had imagined. Merry tried to keep from grinning and failed completely, and Bilbo leaned back in his chair to watch the proceedings. 

Bargo and Reginard were made to fall to their hands and knees. Saradoc stood behind them, the paddle ready in his hands. 

"You first, Reginard. Speak up so we can all hear you." Reginard looked rather pale and didn't speak immediately. WHACK! The first punitive blow landed, and the miscreant's eyes bugged out as he stammered loudly, "I thrashed on Frodo for no good reason!" WHACK! "All the time!" Reginard elaborated as his face began to redden. 

"Bargo?" Saradoc intoned, gripping the paddle.

"I did too!"

WHACK!

"You did WHAT, Bargo?"

"I thrashed on him as well!" 

WHACK!

Reginard's turn came again. "I tossed him in the river!" The paddle hit him squarely in the backside. "A – And I trapped him in the hayloft!" Another smack. 

Shamefaced, Bargo confessed his part. "I helped him both times." Saradoc swung again. Bargo lost his composure completely, and the real story came forth. "I helped Reg kidnap Frodo and sell him to some big folk down by the river!"

A collective gasp went up from the assembly at Bargo's words, proof of the rumors circulating around the Hall. 

"It was my idea!" Reginard blurted as the paddle connected sharply. 

"And you are aware of the consequences of your actions, are you not?" Saradoc asked them both. 

"Yes, sir," Bargo and Reginard said simultaneously. 

"Because of these two, Frodo was taken to Bree as a captive." Saradoc delivered a healthy whack to Reginard's backside, then stood behind Bargo. "He spent four days on the road, without even proper attire to keep him warm at night or protect him from the weather." Bargo gritted his teeth and winced as the paddle struck. 

"Frodo was drugged, bound and underfed, each moment spent in terror and misery." Saradoc gave Bargo another swing. "Once in Bree, he was sold to the highest bidder as if he were nothing more than a sack of potatoes!" More horrified gasps arose from the hobbits in the room, and the paddle struck home again as Reginard received his due. 

"Frodo was fortunate for a while. He came into the care of a kind man, who paid for his freedom." Saradoc faced the crowd for a moment, wanting to see their reactions. "But another man, a cruel and base individual who had failed to make a better price, refused to give up so easily." He paced back and forth, coming to stand behind Bargo. 

"This fellow, with the help of another, attacked Frodo and his newfound friend, injuring them and rendering Frodo captive yet again!" Instead of shocked gasps, a near silence fell as the listeners tried to imagine the events. Saradoc gave Bargo another stinging swat. "Frodo was bound and beaten, and nearly killed by the ruffians. Bilbo and the good man who helped Frodo managed, with some assistance, to save him from a terrible fate." 

Several more blows were delivered to each of the culprits. Saradoc then pulled the tweens to their feet and demanded, "Now make public your apology to Frodo."

Ashen faced and trembling, Bargo and Reginard turned to face the one they had wronged so greatly and so often. 

"We're sorry for what we did to you, Frodo," Bargo said, shame and pain showing in his features. 

Reginard spoke up under the watchful gaze of Saradoc. "We're sorry we brought you harm and we won't ever do anything like that again."

Saradoc addressed the room at large. "Bargo and Reginard will be leaving the Hall and are stripped of their status as apprentices." 

Murmurs of approval rose from the crowd as Saradoc led Bargo and Reginard out of the dining hall and back to their rooms to await their parents' arrival.

Merry thought his face would split if his grin got any bigger, but he couldn't help himself. Frodo looked dumbfounded as Bilbo rubbed his hands together briskly. "Well, I must say, I don't think I've ever had so satisfying a meal in my lifetime," he said, matching Merry's grin. 

~*~

Frodo stood beside the pony cart as Bilbo climbed up carefully into the seat beside the driver. Saradoc had assigned one of the older stable boys to the task of making the journey to Hobbiton. Bilbo had assured Saradoc that the lad was welcome to stay the night at Bag End and go back to Brandy Hall in the morning after a proper breakfast, of course. 

Merry wrapped both arms around Frodo once again in a lingering hug. "Goodbye, Frodo," he sniffed.

"No, Merry. Not goodbye," Frodo answered him softly. "Just farewell. Bilbo and I will spend this Yule in Hobbiton, but we'll be back for the Forelithe celebrations. I'll write to you in the meantime, so there won't be anything happening that you will not hear of." 

The promise was small consolation to Merry as he watched his favorite cousin and best friend climb into the seat behind Bilbo and the driver. Saradoc put a companionable arm around his son's shoulders and smiled at him. It was difficult now, but things would get better. 

"Thank you for everything, Saradoc," Bilbo said, looking down at them from the pony cart. "I know we may have had our differences, but I thank the Valar for you, Esmie and Merry. You are truly some of the finest hobbits in the Shire."

"Thank you for coming, Bilbo." He made a stern face. "As we arranged, you have until Forelithe to make this lad comfortable in his new home. Should you fail to make him happy, he may return here to stay with us again." The twinkle in Saradoc's eye belied the hardness in his tone.

"I shall care for him as though he were my very own son, Sara," Bilbo replied, smiling at Frodo. "He shall want for nothing, and anything that tries to harm him will have to get past me to do it." 

Frodo smiled at the thought of Bilbo fending off all manner of nasty creatures in his defense. The old gentlehobbit would do it, too! 

The pony cart began to move along the path through the courtyard, departing amid waving and well – wishing. Frodo's eyes held Merry's until a bend in the path interrupted their line of sight. He was startled from his gazing by Bilbo's voice.

"To pass the time as we go, Frodo lad, what say you to a bit of practice with your Elvish?" Frodo had learned a little on the journey from Bree, and it wouldn't do to let him forget it for lack of use. He was a fast learner, Bilbo reflected, and they could make much progress if they set themselves to it properly.

"All right, Uncle. That sounds like a fine idea," Frodo responded. As the cart clattered along the path toward Hobbiton, Bilbo shouted out a word in common tongue, and Frodo responded with the Elvish translation. Upon exhausting Frodo's supply of words, Bilbo switched to drilling Frodo on new ones, patiently outlining the pronunciation, spelling and meaning of the words as they went. 

"So, now that we have covered some new ground, let us review, shall we?" Bilbo said cheerfully. "Tell me, Frodo, what is the word for 'blackberry'?" Hearing no response, Bilbo prompted him again. "Frodo?"

Turning his head to look behind him, Bilbo saw that Frodo had nodded off. The warmth of the sun and the steady rattle of the cart had lulled him to sleep, and he leaned back against the seat of the cart with his eyes closed. 

"The attention spans of the young are growing shorter all the time," Bilbo lamented to the lad who was driving. He received a shy grin in response. Bilbo laughed heartily, lit his pipe and leaned back in the seat to enjoy the journey home. 

~*~To be continued~*~


	27. Bag End

FrodoBaggins1982 - Glad you found Bargo and Reginard's punishment fitting. One more chapter to go, and we'll end as we began, with Frodo, Sam and Merry at Bag End.  
  
Gayalondiel - Hope you enjoyed Bargo and Reginard's comeuppance as much as I did! We have a few loose ends to tie together here, and then soon it will be time to start the sequel!  
  
Midgette - I don't know why, but suddenly the site doesn't like my documents! I tried re-saving chapter 26 as a web page format, and the preview looked better. I've uploaded it again, and hopefully it will take care of the problems.   
  
Pebbles - Here's the last chapter, and hopefully the goofy symbols are gone. I have no idea what all that was about!  
  
Iorhael - Frodo's experiences have shown him that he is a survivor. The folks at Brandy Hall were quite shocked at what happened, but for all their dismay, they still can't entirely grasp what it was like for Frodo. It would be interesting to see Bargo and Reginard years later and find out where their heads are about all this.   
  
Bookworm2000 - I enjoyed writing the last chapter and giving those naughty hobbits what they deserved.   
  
Aelfgifu - Frodo got his chance to get a few parting shots in, and he earned it! Go Frodo!  
  
Shirebound - Bargo and Reginard got theirs! If you like the things I've written here involving Bilbo, please stick around for the sequel. He's one of the leading stars of the story.  
  
GamgeeFest - I think Bargo and Reginard will think twice before they bully someone again. Glad it left you grinning!  
  
Tavion - Glad Bargo and Reginard's punishment lived up to expectations. Sequel is coming soon!  
  
Fool of a Took - Remind me not to make trouble at Brandy Hall! Saradoc took care of those boys, sure enough. Boys will be boys, won't they? Falling asleep during lessons and brawling in the courtyard. Ahhhh, youth!  
  
Aratlithiel - Everyone seems to be pleased with Bargo and Reginard's punishment. Can you imagine the ride home on that bumpy road with a sore backside?   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 27 - Bag End  
  
"Wake up, my boy," Bilbo said, shaking Frodo gently to rouse him. "We've arrived. You're home, lad."  
  
Frodo sat up in the seat of the cart and looked around with the dazed expression of one still half in dreams. Bag End stood before him, the windows looking out from the Hill invitingly, and Frodo wondered if he was indeed still dreaming.  
  
Bilbo extended a hand and Frodo grasped it, steadying himself as he climbed down from the cart. It was dark out, and most of the surrounding area was hidden in the shadows. Even so, what Frodo could see of his new home left him awestruck.  
  
"This is Bag End?" he breathed, letting his gaze rove from the gate up the path that led to the round, green door. "It's enormous!" Bag End was nowhere near the size of Brandy Hall, but Brandy Hall was home to many hobbits. For the dwelling of a single - no, two hobbits, Frodo reminded himself - Bag End was indeed quite large.   
  
"There is room to spare, certainly," Bilbo replied as he urged Frodo toward the gate. "Inside with you now. It's late and we must get you settled in." The elderly hobbit opened the door and shooed Frodo inside. The driver would bring their bags in for them.  
  
"There are several empty rooms, Frodo," Bilbo informed the tween. "Take whichever one suits you, and we'll get your things arranged." Bilbo left Frodo standing in the parlor as he stepped back outside to speak with the young driver once more.  
  
Frodo had been frozen in place in the parlor as Bilbo spoke, unsure of what direction to take. The parlor itself was large and comfortable, and he could see the kitchen and hearth beyond it. Several hallways branched off from the main one, leading deeper into the large smial, and Frodo was unsure which was the proper one.   
  
The young hobbit moved slowly down one of the hallways, stepping into each room in turn. They were all more spacious than his accommodations at Brandy Hall had been, and all were furnished with comfortable - looking beds, dressers, and other necessary items. One room had a window facing the sprawling garden, and it was this one that Frodo chose. He could imagine the heady scent of wisteria drifting into the room on a warm breeze.   
  
Bilbo had returned and came to stand behind Frodo. "An excellent choice," he said, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "Let me see. Bed, dresser, wash stand - " He took a quick inventory of necessary furnishings. "You'll be needing a bookcase, I imagine," Bilbo said as he surveyed the room.   
  
"But Uncle, I have only a few books of my own," Frodo protested quietly.   
  
"At present, that may be so, lad," Bilbo acknowledged with a grin, "but you will undoubtedly acquire many more in the days to come. Books are like rabbits, Frodo. They have a curious tendency to multiply."  
  
Frodo laughed at the statement, trying to imagine his few leather bound volumes turning into several shelves' worth.   
  
Although he had slept during the journey from Buckland, Frodo found he was quite tired. He made a futile attempt to conceal a yawn, and Bilbo, sharp - eyed as ever, caught him in the act. "Enough conversation for now, lad," he said as the driver of the cart appeared in the hall behind him with Frodo's pack. "You go on and get some proper rest, and we shall finish getting you settled in the morning."  
  
"That sounds wonderful," Frodo agreed as another yawn threatened. "Thank you, Uncle - for everything." Frodo hugged Bilbo with heartfelt gratitude and Bilbo returned the embrace, his eyes misting slightly.   
  
"Pleasant dreams, dear boy, for you surely deserve them," he said softly. The elder hobbit broke away from the embrace reluctantly and left the room, intending to get the young lad who had driven the cart settled in a guest room and catch up on a few things in his study before retiring for the night.   
  
Frodo pulled a nightshirt from his pack and stowed the rest of the contents in the armoire. He was glad he was so tired, otherwise he felt certain he would not sleep at all for his anticipation of the day to come. The morning would bring his first opportunity to explore his new home, and he couldn't wait to see Bag End and its surroundings in the full light of day.  
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo dipped the quill in the inkwell and began to write a message. He scrawled a few lines, then stopped to do some figuring in his head. That should do nicely, he decided, and signed his name with a flourish. He pulled a small wooden box from behind some books on a shelf and opened the brass lock. He counted out a number of coins, then added a few for good measure, and returned the box to its former place. He then bundled the coins into a small pouch and attached the note, addressing it to a location in the Southfarthing.   
  
On another piece of paper, he began a second message, this one as warm and personable as the last had been short and businesslike. Frodo would surely want to add his comments as well, Bilbo thought, and he would have the chance to do so in the morning.   
  
Bilbo relaxed and lit his pipe, thinking about his new responsibilities as Frodo's guardian. He was now responsible for Frodo's education, health and happiness, and he realized that he felt no apprehension regarding any of them. He felt only gladness, and he savored the feeling as he planned all the things he and Frodo could do and see together.   
  
He rose and padded lightly down the hall to the room Frodo had chosen as his own, and pushed the door ajar carefully. Frodo was already asleep, his features relaxed and calm, his breathing measured and even. He looked comfortable, happy, and safe.   
  
"Welcome home, Frodo," Bilbo whispered as he softly closed the door and sought his own rest.   
  
~*~Two weeks later in Bree~*~  
  
"It's good of you to join me for tea," Aiden said pleasantly as he took Mira's cloak and hung it on the peg by the door. He did his best to conceal a small wince as he raised his left arm in the process. The wound was healing nicely, but some stiffness lingered still.   
  
Mira smiled, although she had seen the fleeting look of pain cross his features. "It was good of you to ask me," she replied. "My family is looking forward to your joining us for supper on the morrow."   
  
"As am I," Aiden said as he poured tea into two cups. He truly was looking forward to the event, although nervousness was beginning to creep over him. It had been some years since he had asked another man for permission to court his daughter.   
  
Just as he had seated himself across from his guest, the doorbell sounded. "Now I wonder who that could be?" he mused as he excused himself and rose to answer the summons. He opened the door to find an unfamiliar hobbit standing before him.   
  
"Master Aiden, I presume?" the hobbit asked.   
  
"Yes, I am he," Aiden replied, looking a little confused. The hobbit peered over the top of the stack of small, wrapped packages he was holding in his hands.   
  
"I have an order to be delivered to you from Master Shadybanks. He sends his greetings to you, " the hobbit said politely as Aiden's look of confusion deepened.   
  
Jeb Shadybanks was one of the Southfarthing's most successful pipeweed plantation owners, and one of Aiden's personal favorite business associates from the Shire. But Aiden hadn't ordered any pipeweed from him recently, and he usually journeyed to the Shire himself to replenish his supplies. So where had this sizeable shipment of Old Toby come from?   
  
"I thank you, good sir, but there must be some mistake. You see, I haven't placed an order recently," Aiden explained as he silently reckoned the size and weight of each of the packages. There was enough pipeweed there to supply his customers for months to come.   
  
"Oh, we know," the hobbit answered briskly. "This order was paid for and sent to you by Bilbo Baggins of Hobbiton. He has a message for you as well." The hobbit pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to a thoroughly dumbfounded Aiden.   
  
Mira stood beside him as he read Bilbo's missive.   
  
'My Dear Friend,  
  
It is with our greatest appreciation and deepest gratitude that we send you greetings and a small token of thanks for all that you have done for us in recent days. It was a remarkable series of events that brought you and young Frodo together, and it is clear that you are a remarkable individual as well. Frodo was blessed by the Valar indeed to have found himself in your company while in Bree.  
  
I am aware that it was at considerable personal expense that you came to Frodo's timely assistance, and it would please us both very much if you would accept this gift we send you. You risked and freely sacrificed much on Frodo's behalf, and this is the very least we can do to thank you. Frodo wishes to add his greetings as well, by the way.  
  
Best regards,   
  
Bilbo Baggins'  
  
The writing on the page changed from Bilbo's slanting script to Frodo's flowing, more rounded letters.   
  
'I hope all is well with you and that your shoulder does not trouble you any longer. I am very sorry you were injured on my account.  
  
I shall treasure our friendship always, and I will never forget the kindness you showed me when I thought there was none left to be found in the world. If you should find yourself in the Westfarthing, Uncle Bilbo and I would be pleased if you would be our guest. If we should not be destined to meet again, please know that I wish you happiness and long life, peace and prosperity.   
  
Your Friend Always,  
  
Frodo Baggins'  
  
"How remarkable," Aiden said as he carefully folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. "Thank you for the delivery," he said, addressing the hobbit once more. He held out a few coins to the hobbit as a tip for his efforts.   
  
"You're quite welcome, Sir," the hobbit answered, handing the packages to Aiden. "I must be off now, or I shall be late in arriving home, and that wouldn't do at all," the hobbit said with a polite bow. He waved again as he strode off down the street whistling a tune.   
  
"Well that's something you don't see every day," Mira remarked. "The little folk seem to have been quite impressed by you and your deeds," she teased him.   
  
"And I should hope your father is equally impressed, else he may send me packing," Aiden answered wryly. "I should be quite unhappy in such circumstances."   
  
"As would I," Mira answered. Since their meeting at the Prancing Pony, the two had been spending more and more time together. It was clear that something was developing between them, something beyond the care of a healer for her patient.   
  
"To think I owe our meeting to having befriended a frightened young hobbit," Aiden said with a shake of his head. It was interesting, the circumstances in which one could find onesself, and the way one thing affected another. The making of a single decision could change everything, setting in motion events that would alter the lives of many.   
  
"It sounds like he is no longer frightened, but in good care and keeping," Mira remarked, thinking of the young hobbit whose injuries she had tended. "May he remain so," she wished aloud as she took Aiden's hand and led him back inside to where their tea was waiting.   
  
~*~Bag End, present time~*~  
  
Merry gazed into the fire, his expression unreadable, his thoughts distant. Sam stared at Frodo, shocked and dismayed by much of what he had heard, but also heartened and warmed by some of the story. "Mr. Frodo, why did you never tell me?" Sam asked, a little breathlessly.  
  
"It's the past, Sam," Frodo said softly. "None of it can be changed, so why dwell on it?" He stood and walked to the hearth, extending his hands to warm them. "Even so, I'm amazed to think that a single message that wasn't sent might have made everything so different."   
  
"Very different indeed," Merry remarked. "If your father's message had reached old Rory, You would never have experienced all those awful things in Bree, or been tormented by Bargo and Reginard."  
  
"I would not have lived with you at Brandy Hall and had the opportunity to be your friend as well as your cousin, either," Frodo answered, smiling at Merry fondly. "Nor would I have met Aiden, and learned that there are good people to be found among the big folk as well as evil ones."  
  
"What ever happened to him, Mr. Frodo?" Sam questioned curiously. He wished he could have met Aiden himself and thanked him for being so kind to Frodo. "Is he still in Bree?"  
  
"I think so. I haven't heard from him in some time, but he is busy, you know." Frodo grinned widely. "A wife and children seem to have that effect on a person."   
  
"What about those two scoundrels from the Hall?" Sam asked with a scowl. "I wish I had been there! I'd have shown them a thing or three!" Sam stood with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face. His eyes flicked to Merry and he said apologetically, "Not that you didn't take as proper care of Mr. Frodo as you could, Mr. Merry."  
  
Merry grinned. "They were a little bigger than I was, it's true. They would have been a bit for you and I to handle, but perhaps between the two of us we could have taught them a lesson."  
  
"I don't know where they are now," Frodo said as he searched his memory for some mention of the boys. "I know they were sent from the Hall following their punishment." A smile spread across Frodo's face, followed by a laugh. "I don't think their journey home was pleasant. As I understand it, they weren't too inclined to sit down for a little while." Merry and Sam snickered as Frodo continued. "I'm certain their families were none too happy to have them returning home in disgrace."  
  
"Did those nasty ruffians get theirs too?" Sam surely hoped they did. When Frodo had told of his treatment by them, Sam had nearly dashed across the room to pull Frodo into a protective embrace. He had held back and listened, turning his face away so Frodo wouldn't see his tears.   
  
"I never learned what happened to Dolan," Frodo said with a shake of his head. "Perhaps he saw the error of his ways and went back to trading in proper goods. He certainly attempted to redeem himself in the end."   
  
Frodo's brow furrowed as he thought of Gavin and Fergus. He had buried the memory of them, and digging it up had cost him some effort. "The others were taken into custody by the constable. They tried to pin blame on Dolan, but he wasn't to be found anywhere about Bree. Fergus also tried to have Aiden charged with trafficking in slave labor for purchasing me from him at the inn. Of course, that failed entirely when respectable citizens came forward in Aiden's defense. He is quite well thought of, you know."   
  
"And well he should be," Merry said, remembering the kind voice and smile of the man who had risked his life to save Frodo's.   
  
Frodo crossed the room and opened the shutters of one of the windows. "The storm has passed," he announced, gazing out at the sky that was beginning to lighten in the east. "We've talked the entire night away, it seems." He turned to face Sam and Merry. "I don't really even feel tired at all," he mused. "Just hungry."   
  
"I could do with an early breakfast," Merry agreed. Sam was already on his way to the kitchen, intent on preparing bacon, eggs and fresh potatoes, browned in a skillet and seasoned with salt and chives from the garden.   
  
"I'll take care of that, Mr. Frodo!" Sam called brightly from the kitchen. That and more, he vowed. Perhaps Frodo would have missed some good things by coming to Bag End sooner, but Sam would have given anything to spare him the pain and fear he had seen in his friend and master's eyes during the telling of the tale.   
  
Frodo was right, there was no changing the past. Sam was reasonably certain that even Gandalf couldn't do something like that. There was only the future to consider, moment by moment. Whatever the future brought, Sam vowed he would do his part to keep Frodo safe from anything that sought to harm him, and he knew Merry would too.   
  
A short while later, memories and tales were laid aside as three hungry hobbits sat down together to enjoy a hearty breakfast and each other's company while the sun rose over the peaceful lands of the Shire.   
  
~*~End~*~  
  
Author's note - As has become my habit lately, I have a sequel in the works. "Baggins of Hobbiton" will explore Frodo's arrival in Hobbiton and his efforts to adjust to life at Bag End. I know this theme has been done many times, but I hope to add some new twists.   
  
The agreement between Bilbo and Saradoc stated that if Frodo did not find himself happier at Bag End within 6 months, he could return to Brandy Hall. Bilbo intends to adopt Frodo formally and name him as his heir if all goes well during that time. Lotho learns of the plan, and he figures he has 6 months to get Frodo to back to Buckland! 


End file.
